Different
by Charli Fox
Summary: An AU JI fanfic. Irina never had the chance to be extracted all those years ago, Sydney disappeared instead. Chapter 15 Dscovery is up.
1. Missing

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Alias, I'm just borrowing the characters for a little bit.

**Different**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

**LOS ANGELES**

**1981**

"I'm not allowed to talk to strangers," the little girl clutched her small blue, yellow and green bag in her left hand whilst in her right she held a folded collage she had done at school that day. The teacher had set them a task the day before to bring in family photographs that day to stick them onto coloured card of the child's choice and put them underneath shapes.It was a simple and fun think to do that the she had enjoyed, she couldn't wait to show it to her mom and dad andtapeit tothe fridge or maybe the wall in her room. She hadthought about giving it to her father to put on hisdesk at work so he could remember his family when he was busy, he was always busy. But then she decided if she did that then she would have to make a similar collage for her mother to take to work too. She looked passed the pretty young black haired woman with dark green eyes to see if she could see her mother's car; fourvehicles were stopped at the traffic lights at the end of the road but her mom's car wasn't one of them. She pushed her light blue sunglasses back on her head and studied the woman. The strange lady looked friendly, and she was still smiling. "My mommy will be here any second now," she checked if the woman would balk upon hearing that butshe merely smiled. She said her name was Emma Walker and reached into her pocket.

"I hope so, I haven't seen her in a while. I talked to her a couple of hours ago though and she asked me to pick you up and take you home for her. She's running a little late at work," Emma took her hand out of her pocket and held it out to the little girl.

She looked confused. "Why would she ask you to do that when she hasn't seen you for a long time?" she eyed the item that Emma was giving to her, she ignored it and folded her arms defiantly waiting for an answer.

The smile didn't leave Emma's face and her arm stayed outstretched. "Because your mom trusts me, we've been friends since we were children, since we were your age actually," a flicker of annoyance crossed her face at the kids' next comment.

"You talk funny," she took the item; it was an old black and white photograph. One woman was Emma and the other was her mother, they were stood side by side in front of a colourful building. She continued to look at it thinking that maybe she could put this photo on the collage she'd do for her mom when she got home.

Emma withdrew her arm and the smile returned as the little girl relaxed. "Well I haven't lived in this country for a long time," was her explanation for the accent. Emma had not thoughtshe would need to mask it to speak with a 6 year old.

"You lived here?" she pointed to the photo.She didn't think it looked like a place in America though she knew that they were still a million places she hadn't gone in this country yet. When she was older she was going to travel the world and take hundreds of snapshots.

Emma nodded, she was happy with the progress that she was making. For the last year or so the girl had been watched, in the years to come she would be valuable. She would be very important. An old woman of sixty-five came out of the school and, shielding her eyes against the sun, watched the two figures at the gates for a few seconds before calling over to the child. "Is everything alright, Sydney?"

She looked around and waved at the teacher, technically she wasn't a teacher but more of a helper but she was clever and Sydney thought she knew more than her actual teacher. "Yeah, I'm just talking to my mommy's friend!" she yelled back. The teacher nodded and looked relieved, she squinted to see the woman better but without her glasses everything was blurred. She waved to them and they waved back and then the teacher retreatedback inside. Nobody else was about and all the other children had been picked up. Sydneypeered downat the photo Emma had given her. "Can I keep it?" she asked hopefully.

Emma stood up, she looked happy. "Of course, honey" she answered back sweetly. She glanced at her watch and looked around, the road was clear. For now. It was getting later and she had not wanted to hang around for so long but Sydney was very cautious, the cardinal rule of 'don't talk to strangers' had been instilled in her, probably for situationssuch as this as well as the obvious reasons. "So, I'm your moms friend, can I be yours too?"

Sydney was thoughtful but a few seconds later she nodded firmly. "Any friend of my mommy's is a friend of mine," she swung the bag onto her shoulder and put the collage into her left hand to take a hold of Emma's hand with her right, they wandered hand-in-hand across the road to where Emma's blue car was parked. A few minutes later and the area was completely deserted.

* * *

"You are to prepare for extraction, Agent Derevko," the bearded handlertold Irina in a thick Russian accent, a man walking his dog strolled passed and the Russian quickly switched to a Californian accent as he carried on speaking, in hushed tones. "In two days, 1800 hours…" he detailed what would happen and turned to walk briskly away. 

"Agent Bristow can still be of value to us, his work with Project Christmas –" she couldn't leave, not yet, she wasn't ready. She had realised long ago, with dread, that she had become too comfortable in her role as Laura Bristow, she met with her handler pretty infrequently to give him intel on Jack's work and the time in between, that she had no contact with the KGB, it was so easy to become settled. It had been ten years, to go back to Russian would seem alien to her now, her family, her other family, would be like strangers to her with the complete lack of contact hat she had had with them over the years. What would she do once she returned to Russia? She had no home there now.

He cut her off sharply. "There are people that think your allegiance is no longer with us, Derevko, your objections to return home…" he stressed that word, "will only prove that their concerns are well founded," he eyed her, waiting for her to argue further.

He was not disappointed. "If I can find further information that will be of use, will I be permitted to continue my mission?" she bargained. The park, many a scene for days out, for her and Jack when they were dating and later on expanded to include their daughter too, now the seemed cold, it was no longer comforting to be there.

There was silence while he pondered the request, if he coined the idea as his own then Irina may have longer, this could work to their advantage. He almost laughed out loud, she was trying to buy more time with her family and she had no idea that while she was there her family was about to be torn apart. Irina would not have time to search for further information, her mind, and Jack's would be on other matters. However he kept his face set in a perfect stoic mask and responded in a grave tone of voice. "Perhaps that can be arranged." He tried to stare her down but ended up turning away first, he strode back the way he had come; past the climbing frames, slide and swings and onto where his car was parked. When he looked back Irina had already gone.

* * *

Laura strummed her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music that was playing through the radio, it was stifling hot and both the front windows of the car were down as far as they could go. She stopped at the traffic lights before the school and tried to see Sydney waiting for her by the gates, looking at her watch Laura saw that she was ten minutes late, she did not see her daughter outside but had no reason to worry. Sydney was sensible and had probably gone inside to await her arrival. She parked up the car and walked across the street the gates,where shesaw the teachers' helper Mrs. Jenkins, locking up and frowned. "Where's Sydney?" she questioned. 

Surprised, Mrs. Jenkins spun around to see a worried Laura Bristow; she surveyed the area as though she expected her daughter to come running towards them. The old woman frowned at the question. "Your friend came and picked her up…" she looked at her watch, "No more than fifteen minutes ago. From the look that Laura now wore, Mrs. Jenkins got the most terrible feeling that the woman Sydney had been with was no friend.

Outwardly Laura tried to appear calm and collected; there must have been a reasonable explanation. Kate, her friend and work collegue,must have seen Sydney by herself while she was on her way to pick up Luke, who went to a school nearby, and given her a lift home. That explanation was not particularly reasonable though, firstly Luke stayed behind an hour later than usual on Wednesdays for basketball practice with his friend, and even if that were not the case Kate would have contacted her if she had picked Sydney up. Panic seized hold of her, a feeling she had not had before; even when she had almost been caught by Jack a couple of times, when they first started dating, going through his computer. Her heart beat faster as though she had just ran a marathon non-stop. "Who took her?" Laura demanded, she felt nauseous but she tried to remain in control. Panicking did not solve anything, control was paramount.

"Oh…I don't know her name, Sydney…Sydney, she said the woman as your friend…oh no," poor Mrs. Jenkins felt like crying and she began to doubt herself, had she worn her glasses then perhaps she would have been able to make out distinguishing marks, maybe identify the strange woman. But she had not seen her properly. "I couldn't see her," she raised her hands to her face, rubbing her forehead. "Shall I…shall I call the police?" but Laura had already gone, she raced towards her car and sped away from the school.

What was she doing? Did she really think driving around aimlessly was going to bring up anything? She didn't even know the make or colour of the car, she didn't even know if this woman had a car. Laura second guessed her actions, had she not been at the park she wouldn't have been late. It was her fault. She ran a red light and ignored the beeping car horns that followed; she barely concentrated on the traffic and instead zeroed in on the cars that drovepast andpassers by on the sidewalk. The roads were almost clear and that served to her advantage as it made it easy to see ever person that she passed. None of them were her daughter. She felt helpless. Her breathing was becoming ragged and she closed her eyes, forcing herself to remain calm again. She clenched the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking. She would have to tell Jack.

In a daze she drove home, the seat beside her empty, no bag or books littered the back seats, Sydney wasn't chattering away about her most recent day at school. She wasn't holding up her latest masterpiece and insisting Laura stop concentrating on the road for a moment to give her opinion. Laura felt empty. She arrived home, alone, and walked to the phone. The police, she needed to call the police. She could barely believe the words that were coming out of her mouth as she spoke to the dispatcher. She realised then that she was probably in shock. Sydney was missing.

* * *

This was the first in a long time for Jack; he was coming home early. He had gotten out of the longest meeting he had ever had to endure to hear that Laura had called him at work, something she very rarely did, and asked him to come home as soon as possible. Sam, his friend,had taken the message and had told him that she had sounded strange on the phone, distant. Jack was only slightly concerned, he had no reason to think anything serious had happened, if it had then Laura would probably have told Sam and he in turn would have gotten Jack out of the meeting from hell. And then he saw the police car parked outside his house and someof their neighbours hovering around outside. As he passed them by theywore looks of sympathy and gave him their condolences. With a jolt of fear Jack ignored them and raced up the path. The front door was open and from the hallway he saw one of the police officers standing in the living room, a woman he just about remembered was Mrs. Jenkins was sat down with her head in her hands. Laura was leant against the wall with her arms folded; she was staring at the floor, completely out sorts. Hearing him enter she looked up and watched him, not speaking; he crossed the room and noticed that Sydney was not present. The question concerning his daughter was the first that left his mouth, "Where is she?" His hand left his side to cuphis wife'scheek, "Laura?" 

His voice was so soft, and she felt a pang of guilt, he was going to hate her. "She's missing," there was nothing right with that short sentence and those two words turned Jack's world upside down.

* * *

Sleep was like something foreign to Jack and Laura Bristow that night. Their neighbourhood was small and word quickly spread about what had happened, people they had onlynoticed on the street and some they had never seen at all came knocking on their door just to say sorry and offer their help and services should they need it. The police could not do much and they let the Bristow's know that they would do everything they could; they didn't hold much hope though. Jack had gone out in the car a couple of hours later to drive around, as Laura had done before him, to see if he could, by some miracle, spot Sydney. Miracles were in short supply that cool night. Laura stayed at home, wishing but not expecting Sydney to run through the door. With a humourless laugh it crossed her mind that now would be the perfect time to root around for more information for her bosses, but that wasn't important anymore. She knew there wasn't much more intel she could give to them anyway, she had said that there was to buy her more time. But, her family had been her priority for a long time now; it just wasn't enough to keep Sydney safe. 


	2. Grieving

**Chapter One**

* * *

"Where were you?" The question was asked in a quiet voice but Jack could have been screaming it at Laura, it still sounded accusatory even though he did not intend it to be. As he had expected there had been no sign of Sydney, their next-door neighbours had joined in the search too but they also reported back that they had not seen her. It was pitch black outside and strangely quiet in the house but for the steady breathing of the houses only two occupants.

Laura was leant forward on the couch, her head in her hands and fingers rubbing her tired eyes. She was exhausted but to sleep seemed wrong, that she should feel at peace when Sydney was goodness knows where. Jack was sat opposite her on the chair in a likewise position, his face was a showing a range of emotions. But he looked like he was falling apart and trying to stay in control at the same time; his fists were clenched. "There was traffic…" the excuse sounded lame, but what was she supposed to say? Tell him the truth? That couldn't possibly help right now, he would hate her and then he would have nobody, he would deal with Sydney's disappearance on his own and though he was the strongest person that she knew, she was not sure he could handle it by himself. "It was 10 minutes…I should have driven faster" _I should never have gone to the park._

She heard the creak of the chair as he stood but she didn't look up; expecting him to walk out of the room to be by himself maybe immerse himself in his work for a few hours. He wouldn't sleep either, it would be hours that could be spent searching, wandering aimlessly. He crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his. "Laura, don't sit here blaming yourself…I couldn't stand that, it isn't your fault" his voice was so soft. The words were spoken with such sincerity and only she knew that it was a lie. It hurt to see him be so comforting. "We will find her," he said it with such conviction that she believed it. It would be a near impossible task, a needle in a thousand haystacks, but they would do it no matter what it took.

The front doorbell rang, announcing a visitor's presence and Laura and Jack met each other's eyes. They rose at the same time and all but ran the short distance to the door.

* * *

They were an hour away from the airport and Emma was pleased to see that Sydney had still not woken up, measures would be taken once out of the country to ensure she didn't remember much of who she was. Old memories would be replaced by new ones and soon the young girl would not be able to recall anything of her past life, that chapter was over and done with. Emma had given her something to make her sleep, occasionally Sydney had turned around and mumbled but had not been a problem. The lights, houses, trees and other vehicles passed in a blur as she sped along the freeway. This was the easiest task she had ever been set, she had hoped to be given a challenging assignment but this would suffice for now. They were probably testing her first and once they knew how reliable she was they would trust her with important missions.

It would only be later that she found out how important the young girl was.

The hour passed by quickly, it was decided she would leave the country in an airport other than LAX, Jack Bristow would think to check their surveillance tapes, though even if he did see Sydney he would not recognize her. The airport was quite busy and not many people noticed them as Emma, with Sydney asleep on top of a green suitcase on a luggage trolley, hurried on by to catch their flight. The ones that did look their way glanced for a second, looking fondly at the tired child with long curly blonde hair, before concentrating on themselves. She wasn't Sydney Bristow anymore; her new passport said that she was Lily Walker.

Sydney began to wake up half an hour into the flight. She yawned, shifted in her seat and opened her tired eyes, blinking them a few times. She pushed herself up from the seat and peered through the window expecting to see the familiar houses and streets that she always passed on her way home. Instead she saw clouds. She blinked her eyes rapidly, thinking that she was still asleep and dreaming. Sydney didn't think that was possible though, in her dream she had been riding a horse and horses didn't gallop in the sky. She looked around at her surroundings properly then, taking in where she was. She had not been in a plane before but knew she must have been in one as she could see the sky all around her. Sydney looked to her left to see Emma; she was reading a book and Sydney noticed it was in a language with funny symbols for words that she didn't understand. She recognised the picture though and identified it as a book that her mother had read a couple of weeks back. She was worried then and though she tried not to, began to panic. She tried to put on a brave face, to act strong and grown up like her parents; where was she? Why wasn't she at home?

The other people on the plane were fast asleep, there weren't many that she could count from her position, standing now on her seat, only four or five. Emma looked up and was suddenly nervous; she did not want Sydney to call attention to them. Sydney put her hand to her head and ran her fingers through her blonde hair, she looked at it with distaste, and if this was a game then she hated it and wanted to stop. She yanked the wig off and threw it to the floor and, still stood on the seat, folded her arms and glared at Emma. "Where are my mom and dad?" she demanded. Emma peered around at the other people but they remained in their various positions of sleep. Sydney noticed her unease and raised her voice, asking the same question. "Where are my mom and dad? I don't like this game, I want to go home."

She was still groggy from the effects of the sedative and she didn't put up a fight, or as much of one as a six year old could, and allowed Emma to push her back into a seating position and replaced the wig. The plane hit turbulence and Sydney grew worried, she decided there and then that she did not like flying one bit and once she was on the ground would stay there.

Emma had not thought she would need to use Sydney's cover story quite so fast, but she knew instinctively that this was one child that would not take any more simple lies at face value. She feigned a sad face and was quite proud of herself when a couple of tears fell, it made her seem more believable. Sydney certainly no longer looked as though she would pull a tantrum. "Oh I'm so sorry…I wanted to wake you and tell you before but…there was an accident," she spoke quietly so that, even if a passenger were awake, they would not hear what she had to say. "Your mom and dad were in an accident," she rubbed her face and sighed as though she were having trouble dealing with what she was about to say. "They…" she stood up and took from the overhead compartment Sydney's schoolbag, Emma opened it up and pulled out a paper. Sydney recognised it as one her dad read while eating at the breakfast table. She took the paper and her eyes were drawn to a black and white photo of Jack and Laura, Sydney ignored the small writing and instead took note of the big black lettering at the top of the page.

"You're lying!" she shouted as loud as she could a few seconds later. Sydney threw the paper and it came apart in mid air, the separate pages floated to the floor of the cabin. She did not question how the paper could have been put together so fast; she didn't understand how it worked. The newspaper had said that Jack and Laura Bristow were dead, a car accident. She shied away from Emma as she moved forward to hug the little girl. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she curled into a ball on the seat, her eyes tight shut. Whenever she cried or was hurting her parents would come and make her feel better. But they couldn't now, because it was their deaths that she was so distraught over.

"Sweetie…" Emma began.

Sydney cut her off; she didn't want to be near anybody. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

An air hostess hurried towards them having heard the racket, the passengers in the next cabin were growing concerned. As was she, it wasn't long before she located the maker of the noise; she simply followed the sound of the heart wrenching sobs. "Is everything alright?" it was a stupid question, everything certainly was not alright.

Emma pretended to fight to regain her composure and she wiped her eyes clear. "Her parents passed away…" she let the sentence linger, knowing that the woman would get the hint. It was a family matter, not something the air hostess could help with. She looked sad for the little girl then and gave a reassuring smile before returning to the other side of the plane. If she had looked down at the paper at her feet she would have seen the photo of the parents, she would have recognised the man as the one that would question her about his daughter two days later. But when Jack Bristow came she would be able to tell him nothing. Sydney cried herself to sleep.

When she woke she would be in another country. She would feel as though she were in another world.

* * *

The door was opened to reveal Arvin and Emily Sloane. The disappointment showed on the Bristow's faced that it wasn't Sydney, they shouldn't have dared to hope; it wouldn't be that simple as to have her arrive on their doorstep. "Jack, Laura, we came as soon as we heard. I am so sorry," Sloane conveyed his heartfelt sympathies as they stepped aside to allow him and Emily entry to their home. The four of them walked into the living room and sat down, Jack and Laura in their previous seats and Sloane and Emily beside them.

"We'll do anything we can, whatever you want us to do just call us and we'll come right over," Emily told them with feeling. Sadness was etched on her face, her willingness to do whatever possible to help her friends amazed Irina. "I can't imagine what you're going through right now…if you need to talk…" Laura nodded her thanks. Emily took her hand in hers as if the link would give her strength.

Jack and Sloane spoke amongst themselves for a little while before standing and making their way down the corridor towards his study, once there he closed the door. Jack sat down on the edge of his desk and fiddled with a pen while Arvin spoke, "I will have people on this Jack. We'll get Sydney back and whoever took her will pay."

Jack dug the pen into the desk; the nib began to bore a hole in the wood. "We have no leads…no witnesses…we have nothing!" the pen snapped in half. "When I get my hands on the son of a bitch that took my daughter I will make their lives a living hell for the remainder of their miserable days," his voice was cold, deadly. This was the Jack Bristow that Sloane wanted to work for him.

It wasn't the best time to make his proposition, but at the same time it couldn't be better. Jack needed to channel his energy and anger in to something worthwhile. The CIA would help Jack search for Sydney but they would not do so for ever, Jack would become disappointed with the Agency. SD-6 would be there to save the day. "Don't give up, Jack," Sloane replied encouragingly. "Don't ever give up."

"Arvin has people looking through security cameras at the Airport; he said if Sydney was taken there they should be able to see her. I think agents will be sent there to question employees, the CIA…they have better resources than the police…" Laura listened to Emily speaking; she was trying to be optimistic. "And Sydney, she's clever; if she can she will contact you."

Laura smiled, remembering Sydney again, what she had gotten up to just this morning. "Yes she is," she responded, agreeing with Emily's comment on her daughter. It had crossed her mind that maybe that was why she had been taken, maybe it had something to do with Project Christmas, and maybe somebody else had been watching Jack, apart from her. If that was the case then she would find out. Irina wished she could get her hands on the person that had taken Sydney; she would make them pay with their life.

* * *

Sydney had fallen asleep again, though this time it was not artificially induced. She had woken with a clear head, for all of a minute, and then she remembered why hear heart felt so heavy. She was all alone now. There was her mother's friend, Emma but she didn't know anything about her. She was a complete stranger, though she had been so nice to her. A small coat was produced from Emma's hand luggage and Sydney recognised it a one of hers. It was chilly in the airport and she was glad that she had it to put on. Emma held her hand as she led the way to the Airport's exit. Once outside they walked directly to a dark blue car, the front passenger door opened and a young girl a couple of years older than Sydney got out.

Her dark eyes watched Sydney with disdain and her arms were folded. Her gaze flickered to her mother; 'Emma' and she smiled brightly. "Mat'!"

Emma moved away from Sydney and she sullenly watched as the girl hugged her mother's friend. "Anna," Emma stood up and drew Sydney forward, "say hello to Sydney, she'll be joining you when you start the lessons."

* * *

**Translations**

Mat' - Mother.


	3. The School

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Three days had passed since Sydney arrived in the strange country that Emma had told her was called Russia. After leaving the airport chauffer driven car had taken them to the largest house Sydney had ever seen, Anna had introduced herself and then ignored her for the rest of the journey and instead spoke to her mother in the language the young American had heard her speak outside the airport. She wondered if she would be taught those words some day. She looked out of the window at the passing scenery as she listened to the mother and daughter talk; it made it her feel homesick. She would never be able to talk to her parents ever again. Sydney held her small school bag against her; clutching the last link she had to her other life. She forced herself to sleep some more, in her dreams she was safe and her vivid imagination was enough to make her believe, if only for a little while, that all was well and normal. That nothing bad had ever happened. Sydney and Anna were led inside the house by Emma, and an old man with cold green eyes and a bald head met them at the wooden double doors. Sydney looked all around her, craning her neck to try and see the very top of the house; curtains moved at one of the windows and Sydney focussed her attention there. The curtains were straightened and whoever watched the visitors moved back from the window, the man took Sydney by the arm and pulled her into the house along with Anna and her mother. The door closed gently behind them.

A long and winding staircase was the first thing that Sydney saw, there was no carpet on the floor and her shoes clattered on the hard floor, the walls had been painted white and it was so clean it reminded her of a hospital, minus the friendly Doctors and Nurses. The bald man looked mean and his face was set in a scowl, she did not know what he was saying, he spoke in Russian again, but she knew he was talking about her by the way he periodically glanced in her direction. A few minutes passed of Emma and the bald man engaged in their in depth conversation and they made no sign of stopping any time soon, their voices became raised.

Anna took Sydney by the arm; she was tiring of the conversation and wanted to look around. She had been there only once before but remembered quite clearly where everything was, she walked past many doors on each side, the corridor winding around and seeming like a maze to the two young girls. The doors on this floor had nothing of interest, the house was a private school where only select people could come and study. Sydney was unsure of whether to go any further, this whole place was completely different to everything she had known, and she wanted to find her feet before discovering new places. But she was curious by nature and she allowed the other strong willed girl to take her where she wanted. "What were Emma and the bald man saying?" it occurred to her as they snuck through the house that this girl, this new friend could help her learn her words.

"Boring things," Anna shrugged and turned a corner, there was a door at the end of the corridor and she made for this, her pace quickened and so too did Sydney's as she tried to keep up. "It wasn't important," though her accent was still apparent it sounded as though English could have been her first language. What they were saying was important, but her mother had warned her beforehand to not repeat anything that she heard; Emma had said that it would complicate things. She had told Anna to take Sydney to the place she had gone a month earlier, to show her around and get her used to the building. If she became comfortable there now there was less of a chance she would resist later, when it mattered.

The door was unlocked and Anna pushed it open, she let Sydney go through first. The younger girl stepped through the doorway, the area beyond was brightly lit; the walls were the same white as the rest of the building though here a light grey carpet covered the floorboards. Her shoes made no sound now as she moved hesitantly forward. There was another door and she opened this and peered through, seeing that the next room was empty she went inside. It was mostly empty but for metal chairs that faced a long rectangular viewing window; to the left was steps that led down to a larger room. Instead of walking down these Sydney came to a stop in front of the window; below was a room that reminded her of school a little bit, there were ten desks and a white board at the front. "Where are we?" this place was secluded from the rest of the 'private school' and Sydney had a feeling that this was special.

"My mother said this is where we will come soon, we will be given lessons different to all the others," she relayed what Emma had told her the day before she had come here the first time. "She said we would be trained," Anna sounded again like a little kid trying to understand what an adult had told her. "That this school would be different, it would teach us well…"

Ten minutes later and they returned to Emma, the bald man had left now and Sydney was relieved. She was already uncertain about this place without people she neither liked nor trusted coming into the equation. Her mom had once told her, at a peaceful day at the park one day, that she had a good instinct about people. Sydney had smiled, pleased that her mother had thought her special. Again she felt the now familiar onset of grief and she tried to force it back, she didn't want to be thought a crybaby yet she hurt so much. Emma looked down at her and smiled, her kind face covering what she really felt. Sydney smiled weakly and for the first time noticed the funny tattoo on the woman's hand, it was black and as Sydney studied it she realised it was an eye. She thought she had seen it before but couldn't remember where. Before she could think on it for very long she was whisked away, back to the car, and so her new life began.

Sydney had believed she would be staying with Emma and Anna but instead, on the second day of her arrival in Russia, the mother's old friend took her deep into the city to a house, a little smaller than Emma's, but no less welcoming. "You will be living here, Sydney," she was told. She wanted to cry out, to express her distaste at being taken away from the people she knew and handed off to complete strangers. There were too many things lately that were unfamiliar to her and it made her worry. Worrying was for adults, she was just six years old and did not, could not; deal with all the changes she was suddenly facing. "I will visit soon, when you are settled." Emma had rapped upon the door of this new house and waited for one of the occupants to greet them before leaving without so much of a backward glance.

It was a woman that answered; Sydney thought she looked about the same age as her grandma only this woman did not have as many grey hairs. Her dark brown eyes regarded Sydney with an immense sadness that the child was growing very familiar with. Her school bag was lying on the floor at her feet and the woman picked it up and held out her hand for Sydney to take, she stepped back involuntarily and peeked inside the house but could only see the hallway from her current position. The woman's hand dropped to her side and she walked back into the house. Sydney knew when she was being given a choice; her parents had done that on occasion. When Sydney refused to go somewhere they would get changed to leave anyway and make to leave her alone, Sydney knew they would never really do that but she had still ended up going with them, it worked every single time. And now this stranger was doing the same thing. She worked out that since this woman had her school bag – she would claim it and stay a while, if she decided that she did not like it then she would leave. She closed the door behind her and was glad of the warmth that radiated from the next room; it was a welcome relief from the bitter cold of outside. She pulled off the gloves that Anna had let her borrow and stuffed them into her coat pockets. She ignored her surroundings for now and made for the kitchen at the back of the house where she heard the woman singing softly to herself. Sydney could smell food and her hungry stomach rumbled. Her bag had been placed on a rocking chair and Sydney stopped next to it to lay her coat there too, the bag had been strategically placed in front of a picture. It was obvious that her gaze would be drawn to it. Sydney recognised the old woman in the picture and she looked closer to identify the others.

The woman came back into the room, carrying a tray with two drinks on top. Sydney turned her head to watch her intently before speaking, hoping she was understood. "Was my mommy your daughter?" she asked quietly. The woman nodded without verbally answering, it was painful to look at her granddaughter. The child could never know the truth, that the car accident had been the fault of her mother, that if she had stayed loyal to her country she would still be alive. Their imminent relationship would be built upon a carefully built foundation of lies, a web of deceit. But the older Derevko had no idea that she had also been lied to, from the very beginning.

* * *

Irina's fist closed around the brown envelope that she had found waiting for her fifteen minutes ago, it crunched under the pressure and she tossed it to the ground, the rain came down heavy and the paper soon became a soggy pulp that disintegrated into nothingness. The note she still held, it was only a little bit wet, protected from the terrible weather by the umbrella that she held over it. The word, written in black ink, cursive writing small and neat, was to the point. ABORT. Uneasiness grew inside of her as she came to one of many conclusions that this could be a set up. There would be no extraction because they were waiting in the shadows to kill her; the note could have been left to lure her out into the open. She was not even there to leave; she had decided that she would stay. Irina had made contacts in LA that knew people that could help her to find Sydney, or at the very least offer up some piece of useful information. She refused to allow panic to seize hold of her. If the extraction had indeed been aborted then her handler would contact her soon, the decision must have been late in coming or he would have informed her of the change a lot sooner.

The situation stunk of treachery though. The note followed the same fate as the envelope and within seconds there was nothing left of it. She turned to walk back to her car when headlights blared, making her cover her eyes from the brightness of the lights. Her heart thumped. Would this be it? Irina looked away, staring out over the dark water that rose up and down; millions of ripples were being created and recreated as the raindrops continued to pound down. If this was someone here to kill her they would not shoot or stab her in the back, this way they would have to come closer giving her a chance to catch them off guard. A chance to find out why the sudden change of plan. Her hands gripped the metal rail, they were icy cold now but she did not put them in her pockets to find warmth, the umbrella she had set against the rail and now she was soaking wet. It was not the best item to use as a weapon but it was better than nothing at all. The car door slammed shut and hurried footsteps made their way towards her. Great was her relief when she heard Jack call her name. The feeling did not last long however, they might not be alone.

"What are you doing here?" Jack had to shout to be hard above the rain, he sounded confused but then so would she if their places were reversed. "You said you would be back in ten minutes…" he paused and Irina assumed he was looking at his watch. "It's been 45," he sounded angry with her and she did not blame him. Their daughter had disappeared without warning and then she, his wife, also does not return home when expected.

She felt rather than heard him come to a stop beside her, he opened up the umbrella and held it over them both, not that it would do much good now; they couldn't get much wetter. "I needed to think," her demeanour changed rapidly with his unexpected arrival. Again she became Laura, not Irina, the woman that sought reasons not revenge for wrongs.

"Do you have any idea how many accidents there have been on this road? Six in the past three months," the simple statistics came fast as if he had memorised them for the specific purpose of telling her. "And you're stood here completely oblivious to the traffic, all it takes is one driver to loose control right now and you would be completely helpless to keep from being hit," he berated, his voice never loosing its trace of annoyance. He was genuinely worried for her. Irina had thought about telling him the truth and that thought was now pushed hastily from her mind, he would be shattered if he found out.

"I didn't think of that," Laura admitted truthfully. It had been the plan for her to loose control of her car and plunge into the murky depths of the sea, never to be seen again. It had not occurred to her, after her thoughts were taken with the note, that that might accidentally happen to someone else while she stood there to ponder the past, present and future.

"What made you come here?" his cold attitude disappeared as fast as it had appeared. He was being too rash, of course she needed to think, he was regretting his outburst now…she had dealt with them enough the past couple of days. "I'm sorry," Jack apologised. Her hair was plastered to her face through the rain and he brushed it away.

Laura shrugged. "It was as good a place as any," she inclined her head to meet his concerned gaze. "Will we find her?" it was the question that had been foremost in her mind since Sydney was taken from them. Her picture was plastered on every lamppost and shop window; there had been a broadcast on the news asking anyone with information to come forward. As Laura she could do nothing to help with the investigation, Jack had thrown himself into his work; he kept himself busy. For her she was as frustrated as she had ever been.

"I'm doing everything I can," Jack refused to be defeated; it was not his way to give up. He would spend the rest of his life looking for his daughter if that was what it took; if the CIA could not help then he would go elsewhere. There were many options open to him and he would exhaust them all. He steadfastly refused to entertain the 'what ifs', there was no place for them in his mind. Laura nodded and he walked her to her car, the moment reminding her of one similar long ago, though the situation that brought them together in the rain had been quite different then. "I'll see you back home," she nodded again and watched him make his way back to his car. Laura wanted to tell him her secret, but not yet, first she would speak with Emily; but she already knew what her friend would say to this news. Tell him.


	4. Family

**Chapter Three**

* * *

_Sydney dragged a chair from in the hallway across her room, making scuff marks in the carpet as she went. She set it in front of her window and pulled the curtain across for her to sneak a peek outside. Rain battered down on the carpet and only the streetlamp across the road enabled her to see very far. She leant forward and kept herself propped up with her elbows on the sill and her head resting on her palms. She was supposed to be asleep but the rain, coming down harder and harder, had woken her up.Not to mention the thunder. Her eyelids began to droop lower and lower and she banged her head on the window, promptly waking her five-year-old self, up again. Lightening flashed and made her jump, three seconds later thunder cracked in the distance. This was way better than sleeping. She listened carefully to make sure her mother hadn't heard her moving around in the room, she had a knack for knowing when her young daughter was sneaking around when she should be in bed. Lightening cracked again and in her peripheral vision she noticed a black clad figure standing in the garden. She inhaled quickly and almost fell back off the chair. In her hurry to reach across and close the curtains again lest the night visitor see her watching, she toppled sideways to the floor, catching one arm on the edge of the bed and the other on the chair leg._

_She let out a high-pitched yelp in surprise and, getting to her feet, she made a speedy retreat to her parents' room. " Mommy!" Sydney ran across the hall, her feet pounding on the creaky floorboards. She fled into the room and straight into her mother's arm. Laura had heard the commotion and was already up, wide-awake and ready for anything. Sydney didn't notice how tense Laura was, merely glad that she felt safe as her armswrapped around her small self. "The thunder monster's coming to get me!"_

_Laura relaxed considerably and tried to keep her face straight, she had heard of this thunder monster before, it was just Sydney having another bad dream. "Well I'll just have to make sure he goes back to where he came from," Sydney clutched at her arm and she looked around the doorway fearfully._

"_He was in the garden…I was watching the rain and I saw him!" she admitted._

_The front door slammed shut and Sydney jumped. "Sweetheart, I want you to stay here," Irina ordered gently and let go of Sydney's hand, the child quickly took hold of her mother's housecoat instead._

"_Can't you call daddy? He'll come and save us," Sydney insisted and tried to pull her back into the safety of the bedroom. "You can fight the monsters but daddy's job is to stop the burgerless," Sydney informed her._

_Irina was too intent on who was intruding in her home to correct Sydney's rather amusing mispronunciation of burglars. She tiptoed to the radio clock on Jack's side of the bed, she unplugged it and held the machine in one hand and wrapped the long wire around the other. It would have to do as a weapon, and with her wielding it would prove to be very effective. "This time I have to take care of things, okay?" Irina knelt in front of the young girl that depended on her so much, for so many things. "I want you to go to your room…if I don't come back in ten minutes I want you to climb to the tree outside of your window, okay?"_

_Sydney shook her head, confused. On windy days the thick branches would tap against her window, on sunny days she would open her window as far as it could go and climb onto the tree, it was quite close so it wasn't a particularly large leap. Her parents didn't think so however and once they found out what she could do they forbade her to do it again, it was dangerous they had said sternly. "But you said I wasn't allowed to climb it anymore."_

"_I know. But this time you can, it's very important that you do as I say," she spoke quietly and sensing her urgency Sydney spoke in hushed tones too. _

_Irina took her small hand in hers and led her to the doorway, once a foot or so into the corridor she let go and indicated for her to run to her own room, which she did. She kept the door ajar and watched as her mother made her way down stairs as quietly as possible. Sydney closed the door completely and sat against it, her heart pounded but she wanted to help out so much._

_Irina could see nothing of the intruder, had she not heard the front door she was liable to believe Sydney had imagined the while thing. She made a point to not just brush of Sydney's claims of monsters and dreams next time, if there was a next time. She berated herself, losing this was not even a part of the equation. She had to protect her little girl upstairs and she could not do that if she was unconscious or worse. She padded to the living room; if this person was just a burglar that was the first place they were likely to go to, where the goods were. It was empty and for a minute she stood as a statue, listening for any movement. She heard a clang in the kitchen and, holding her breath, moved quiet as a cat to that room. She moved the makeshift weapon into a position where it would be easy to swing, if they weren't knocked out by the radio clock, the wire would come in handy to strangle them with. Failing that, the intruder had made the mistake of going to the kitchen, there were many sharp implements there that were at Irina's disposal._

_She raised the radio clock higher,and circled it to gain momentum and it made a whooshing sound as it cut through the air. The dark figure had his back to her and was stood over the sink, once within striking distance she brought the makeshift weapon down. He dodged out of the way a second before it would have connected with his head; he spun sideways and, quick as a flash, snatched up the wooden brush against the wall and pressed down on it with his foot to break the brush part offto usethe handle like a quarterstaff. All lights were off and it was dark in the kitchen, obscuring the two evenly matched opponents' visibility. They both circled the round table and listened for the others footfalls to get a more specific idea of how close they were. The intruder brought the staff down and it cracked against the tablebut Irina jumped back. She brought her choice of weapon up to swing it down when the lightening flashed, lighting up the kitchen for a second. The staff clattered to the floor as the intruder dropped it and Irina stepped forward._

"_What the hell are you playing at?" Irina shouted angrily. "I could have hurt you!"_

_Jack, thought quite shocked that his wife had very nearly knocked him out in a fight, had the decency to look sheepish. "I got back early," he told her by way of explanation. He reached out and took the radio clock from her and placed it on the table._

"_I can see that. And you didn't think it worthwhile to call me and let me know?" Laura demanded, she was growing calmer now and relief showed on her face. How would she have explained a dead body on the kitchen floor to Jack in the morning anyway?_

_A little voice interrupted, Sydney squealed with joy at the sight of her father. "Daddy!" she jumped up and he gathered her up in his arms. "You're not a thunder monster!"_

**RUSSIA, DEREVKO RESIDENCE**

The rain outside was considerably lighter than the night a year ago; the memory that had found itself repeating in Sydney's dream, and as then, now the weather woke her again. Though it wasn't just the rain this time. The dream had upset her. This time she could not go across the hall to the next bedroom and snuggle up in the big king sized bed where she would feel warm and comforted. Sydney glared out of the window and started to pound the thin pillow that she had held tightly a few seconds before. First she was distraught and lost and alone, now she was angry. Angry at whoever had caused the accident, angry with her parents for not being with her, angry with the Doctors for not saving their lives. Even angry at the woman asleep in the rocking chair in the next room, though she had done nothing wrong except welcome a strange girl into her small home.

She flung the pillow with all of her might at the window; it bounced off the glass and parted the curtains, the short blue material fluttered in the draft before returning to their earlier position of guarding the window. She crept off the bed and walked along the light grey carpet to the living room, she ignored the sleeping woman and took the Derevko family picture down, holding it in her hand a gazing at it. Picturing her mother in her mind seeing the differences between them; shorter hair, paler skin, different clothes to what she had worn. She loved the picture anyway. Sydney hazarded a look over her shoulder but her grandmother was still sleeping soundly, her chest rising slowly with each soft breath, her head leant to the side and her thick black hair cascaded down over her shoulders. It was painful watching her; she looked a little like her mother.

Sydney tiptoed carefully and quietly back to the room her grandmother had said would be hers, she kept the photo close to her body and clutched it tightly as if someone would appear and take it from her at any moment. Once back in 'her' room she placed the photo next to the family collage that she had done at school. It was all she had left, Kate had told her it would be impossible to go back to America andbring some of her things back. The older woman had not explained why and Sydney did not prod for information.Kate was an adult after all and they would never lie. They knew best.

She looked at each of the pictures in turn, remembering the times they were taken. There was even one of her parents' wedding day, her dad had taken it to work and photocopied it just for her so that she could add it to her project. Sydney hadn't been present, had not been born then, but inspecting the black and white still of her parents holding each others hands, gigantic smiles on their faces and confetti captured as it sank to the ground, she could imagine all the vibrant colours that had been present. Could pretend that she had been there too, maybe one of the pretty bridesmaids that were the age of her now, wearing one of the beautiful red dresses and smiling for the camera as the joyous occasion was captured on film forever.

Sydney felt tears welling up inside again as her heart hurt, they had no time to come though as the door opened and a woman stood watching her with curiosity.

**LOS ANGELES,** **SLOANE RESIDENCE**

Sitting in the rose garden, the bright sun warming them to the point where the two friends felt as though they were sitting in a sauna set at full blast, the red, pink and yellow flowers in full bloom, the dark green stalks making them stand tall and regal, Laura could almost imagine the events of the past few days had never happened. It had all been part of a terrible and realistic nightmare, she had woken up now and all was normal as could be, given the reason she had this life now. The dull ache said otherwise, as did Emily's sympathetic expression on her tanned face. Coming from someone else the look may have looked false without real feeling. But Laura knew that Emily understood completely, as much as one who had never been in this position could anyway.

A silver tray with a jug of ice cold water, orange juice and biscuits, had been set on the white metallic round table in front of them as the two sat back in deck chairs. There was no dodging the subject; Emily did not treat her like glass that would at any second submit to already present cracks. A grave and important subject needed to be talked about and that is exactly that Emily had her do, there was no prying, there was just a way about her that said she would listen to whatever you had to say.

"Sydney is young, but very resourceful. Remember you told me she got out of nursery when she was four because she hated it? You and Jack had embedded your number into her mindand she went to the phone box and called you to ask to be picked up," they both smiled at that, Emily had almost laughed her head off when she first had heard. "If Sydney could do that then, she can do that now."

Though neither voiced this time that escaping a nursery was utterly different to escaping a kidnapper.

"Say it," Emily said. Laura shot her a 'what?' look and her friend smiled; her expression screamed 'don't give me that crap' "you've been inside your own head since you go here, I've never seen you so distracted. Whatever you want to say, say it."

If there was anyone that could read Laura, it was Emily, read her like a book. If she ever got inside Irina's head…"An idiot colleague of Jack's brought up a subject that is, understandably, a touchy subject at this time. The stupid man didn't get that what he was saying would anger Jack. He mentioned another child, if we would ever contemplate having another to ease Sydney's loss…from what I gathered he didn't use the word 'replace' but that was what he was getting at. Jack…he shouted at him and they argued but that's beside the point" Emily listened intently; she had a sinking feeling of where this conversation was heading. And she guessed, if she was correct in her assumption, that there wouldn't be a party upon this announcement as there had been the first time six years ago.

A wasp decided to annoy them by flying around their heads before making a beeline for the biscuits. It was a persistent bugger that never deviated from its goal of investigating the tasty treat. Emily turned to the side to take out a tissue from the box beside her, Irina reached out an grabbed the wasp before turning it in another direction where she opened her hand again and it buzzed away. Emily paused, seeing the wasp had disappeared and put the tissue on the table instead should it be foolhardy enough to return. Laura continued, "I had my suspicions and made an appointment at the Doctor's, it's where I was on the day Sydney was taken. I'm pregnant again. And I don't think Jack will be able to accept it."

**CIA**

Sam, Jack's friend and sometime partner at the CIA waited outside the office that had been loaned to them for an hour or so. Inside the spick and span room Jack studied Sam's son, Luke. He was 11 years old now with a mop of sandy brown curly hair to rival his dads, he took after his mother in the eye department though and his dark blue eyes scanned the room before coming to rest on the commanding man in front of him. The boy had seen Jack many times before, as the man was his godfather, but while he was sat behind the large desk in dark grey suit, inside the building that was his element, Luke thought Jack Bristow oozed authority and decided to never get on the bad side of him lest he want to loose an arm. The boy beside him was a little older, his friend from school, the blond haired youth kept his eyes on the Agent, regarding him with an awe he usually reserved for his own father only. He twiddled his thumbs; his hands lay in his lap as he waited for Jack to begin.

Jack did not seem to notice how uncomfortable the two boys were, he merely wanted to get on with the…not meeting, that sounded to formal…discussion, once finished he wanted to get outside again. Being inside the building was claustrophobic now; answers were outside, just waiting for him to discover them. "All I want you to do is tell me what you told your father, Luke. Michael, you can speak after that," he told them as gently as he could. The last thing he wanted was to alarm them by ordering them to remember things that they may have forgotten.

Luke nodded once and took a deep breath as if he were getting ready to jump off the highest board at the swimming people and needed to psych himself up beforehand. "Right. Well, we – Michael and me, we were on our way to your place. It was last week, I only remember 'cause you guys and my folks and Michael's were going out to dinner and the babysitter was looking after us there…it was about an hour later, us kids, except Syd, she'd gone inside to get a drink or something, were all playing tag outside when this lady started watching us. She must've been standing there for ten minutes, I asked her what she was doing and she said she was looking to buy a house in our neighborhood…there were no signs outside though and my mom knows pretty much everyone and none of 'em are leaving.

"I didn't tell her that though, I figured if she wanted to look at houses it was her business. She was looking around as if she was searching for something, then she asked where Sydney was --."

"She knew Sydney's name?" Jack interrupted sternly.

Michael spoke next, wanting to give his input to the conversation. "Yes Sir, we thought that was pretty weird but she said she knew you and your wife. We said that we'd tell you she dropped by but she told us to forget about it, that she'd call by later," he guessed in a way she had done that, too. Just not in the way that was expected. Jack didn't reply; he let the boy continue in his own time. "It was a couple of days later when I nextsaw her…I was in the field at school when she came over, smiling and really chatty. She said she had a kid too and thought her daughter and Sydney might get along, but wanted to check out the school…I told her Sydney wasn't old enough to go there yet – I didn't tell her where she did go; andthe woman left," he glanced down then, feeling bad.

"If this lady took Sydney, she would have found her without talking to the both of you," Jack explained to them. He really did not want two kids feeling guilty that they had almost led the stranger to his daughter, especially when one of them had only even seen her twice. He didn't want them to have that weight on their shoulders. They proceeded to describe the car and the woman, the teacher had not been able to tell them much, and with her eyesight he didn't really trust her account. But when she told them the colour of the lady's hair, it definitely hadn't been red, which is what Luke and Vaughn swore was what it had been. Maybe this was all unrelated anyway, however suspicious it might seem.

**RUSSIA, DEREVKO RESIDENCE**

"It is okay," the light and deeply accented voice assured the younger girl, who by now was kneeling on her bed and eyeing the visitor with a mixture of inquisitiveness and wariness. "I won't hurt you…I came to say hello. My mother said we had a guest but I did not think it would be one so important. You do not need to be afraid."

_I'm important? _Sydney supposed they would think that, being a family memberand all. "I'm not afraid," she crossed her arms and stared down the shorthaired brunette defiantly. "Who are you?" curiosity won over.

"I am your mothers sister, so that would make me your aunt. My name is Yelena, your mother used to call me Elena instead," the woman told her witha ghost of a smile. Sydney noticed absently, that shewas shorter than her mother though not by too much. Her skin was paler too; more like it had been in the picture. Her eyes weredark blue too, instead of Laura's dark brown, Elena's face was more oval but the high cheekbones were evident in both. Sydney catalogued the differences and similarities and came to the conclusion that her aunt was friendly. Yelena moved across the room and sat on Sydney's bed, she took off her thick brown duffel coat and laid it across her knees. "You can be afraid if you want, I won't think any less of you," she spoke softly "I was afraid when my sister first left home…" she checked herself before saying something she would come to regret. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Sure" Sydney answered and allowed Yelena to take her hand. She looked up at the young woman as they went into the kitchen, noticing that her mother and Yelena walked with the same self-assured air, though Sydney did not completely realise it at the time.

Yelenapicked Sydney up so she could watch everything from the countertop, and speak at near enough the same level. "Do you like it in Russia?" she asked as she busied herself making a sandwich for her young charge.

Sydney shrugged and her nose wrinkled, thinking of how this country and hers were complete opposites. "It's weird," she finally settled on that as her response,

"That's what I said about America," Yelena answered with a short laugh. "Now what's this PB & J that I hear tastes so good?"


	5. News

**Chapter Four**

* * *

_"I don't think this is the right way, daddy," Sydney peered over the window, unclipping her seatbelt to get a better look at the scenery in the process. The Bristow family had set out two hours earlier and they were still no closer to their destination. Jack watched the road and didn't speak; he was growing steadily more frustrated._

_Laura hid a smirk when she glanced sideways at his face, deepset in concentration. He hated admitting when he was lost, didn't all men? She thought that perhaps Jack was worse, he was used to treading through uncertain territory yet he couldn't drive in the correct direction when he was back in his own country. She understood how he could be annoyed. "The map says this is the right way, sweetie, and I'm following the map." So in that case, he couldn't possibly be wrong._

_"I thought we were supposed to go left before the roundabout...that's what Sammie's mom told me, and we passed the roundabout 5 minutes ago," she stated and leant forward between the two front seats._

_Laura turned her way and pointed to the back seat. "Sydney fasten your seatbelt," she instructed. Sydney crossed her arms and sighed, she didn't like having the seatbelt on, it hurt her neck and was too tight. It obstructed her view of the outside too, because it kept her in place and when touring a new area she always wanted to see out of the window. The young girl did as she was told though._

_"We're not going the right way," Sydney spoke up again a few minutes later. She was getting hungry. Her parents had packed a picnic beforehand and her father had said the hamper could only be opened once they reached their destination. She'd probably starve before they got there at the rate they were going._

_"You should just ask for directions," Laura suggested as they passed cars by the side of the road. They had stopped at a gas station a few miles back and he hadn't asked for help them either. Men could be impossible sometimes. He had gotten instructions on how to get to their destination off a friend at work, whose instructions had been quite different from those that Sydney's friends mother had given._

_Jack shook his head and took his eyes off the road for a second to look at his wife. "I don't need to ask for directions, this is the right way."_

_Sydney made little snoring noises, effectively letting them know what she thought of the long drive. "Why won't daddy ask for directions?" she whispered as though not wanting her dad to know she didn't think he knew the way._

_Laura laughed. "It isn't just your father that doesn't ask, Sydney, most men like people to think they know what to do," Jack threw her a 'gimme a break' look and she grinned innocently._

_He pulled over to the side of the road, got out of the car and walked around to the front passenger side. Jack leant on the window, "well okay, if you think you can do any better."_

_"You concede defeat?" Laura asked and unbuckled her seat to get out._

_Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged as he replied, smiling smugly in the process. "For now." This time going by Sammie's mothers directions they arrived at the park festival that was set up a ways out of town, half an hour later. Laura and Sydney didn't let Jack live it down for weeks afterwards._

**RUSSIA**

Sydney smiled in her sleep, her memory got muddled up with her wacky dreams so that pretty soon she imagined they had flown to the park, which was high up in space, and they had gotten there late because a dragon chased them. Needless to say she woke up happy. For the first time in two weeks. Yelena and her grandmother were glad to see her smiling face as she wandered into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Sydney had been waking up confused until then, wondering for a little while where she was, gradually she was getting used to her surroundings. She no longer woke up and whacked her hand on the dresser to the right as she stretched; she remembered that in this house it wasn't to the left. Things were still strange to her though; Yelena was trying to teach her the language too, knowing that if the youngster was to get by she must speak Russian. Today was the first time that Sydney wanted to venture outside, she was being taken to the park; which might have been the reason she dreamt what she did.

Sydney could hardly wait to go and she bounced up and down, anxious to leave. In her opinion her auntie and grandmother were taking way too long to eat and get ready. "Come on!" she insisted. Yelena finished her drink and Sydney took it over to the sink to wash it, better to do something than hang around waiting. The older women had thought it would be quite difficult to keep their young charge occupied by they were surprised to see that Sydney was quite adept at keeping herself entertained in the house.

"The park won't disappear," Yelena pointed out and slid off the seat to wash her plate. She did not live at home anymore but had thought it better to stay for a while to help her niece get settled in, to ease the transition a little better for her. Her husband hadn't been too pleased about that, he had wanted to know why she didn't rush to his sisters' house to help take care of her kids. Elena thought it better not to mention that her sister in laws children were spoilt brats. She had discovered a couple of times that Sydney could be mischievous but she was an angel compared to the others. And she was five years younger than they were.

"But you said we'd get there earlier and it's almost 10:30 now," Sydney looked down and studied the floor, becoming so quiet all of a sudden that her grandmother enquired as to what the matter was. "It's just that, when we used to go places we'd get up early so we had the whole day aheadof us," she told them quietly. It was another reminder, however small, that things were done differently here. Routines would change. Sydney had not come to decision over whether that was a good thing or not.

Her grandmother guided her out of the kitchen and back towards her room. "Then how about we all get ready and leave as soon as possible?" Sydney nodded and padded across the carpet to her room, deciding that nothing would spoil her first day out.

**LOS ANGELES**

Laura entered her home; she had left Emily's an hour earlier but had driven around a little bit before finally coming back. She did not expect back to be there when she walked in and finding the door unlocked she was immediately on alert. Jack was sat at the dining room table with papers around him as well as his laptop. She deposited her back on the sofa and joined him. He looked up and gave her a weak smile before motioning to the mess around him, "I was told to go home after talking to Luke and Michael, they said take it easy -- I got bored and decided to catch up on paperwork. I'm starting to regret it."

She reached across the table and picked up one of the papers, she was merely curious as to what work he was doing and didn't think about studying the information properly to report it later to her superiors until after she had laid it atop the pile again. It wasn't anything to do with Project Christmas anyway. "We need to get out of the house for a while," she told him and her husband nodded agreement. "We should go now."

"I was going to suggest that myself," he replied and began to gather his work whilst the laptop shut down. "Do you have anywhere in mind?"

She shook her head and headed back into the living room. "No, I just want to get out," she answered vaguely, knowing her would understand straight away. He did and walked from one room to the other, he knew she had something on her mind and wanted to find out what it was. Laura saw him glance at the phone on his way passed, they wanted to leave but neither was willing to stay away from the phone for too long. "We'll be quick," she promised.

Laura made a point of driving, if she told him the unexpected news in the car she didn't want him to swerve in the road or crash in shock. She knew it was unlikely but still thought it best to be cautious. Idle chatter to fill in silences was never Laura's strong point, she liked to get straight to the point which was why after fifteen minutes of driving to nowhere in particular, she parked the car along the side of the road and cut the engine. Jack captured her eyes with a questioning look and indicated where she had stopped. Lines of traffic passed them by, some going fast, others too slow, all going somewhere at their own pace.

"We came out of the house to watch the cars go by?" he guessed, he sensed she was trying to find the right way to tell him something and hoped a little bit of humour would ease that. "Would it help if I promised I won't react in any way to what you're about to tell me, before I let you explain?"

She answered with a short sigh. "Well this isn't really something I need to explain," that one got him thinking and she could imagine quite easily his mind working overboard at what she might have to say. Laura turned her back on him to survey the area in which they were standing. In the distance she could see houses but directly in front of her was a grassy verge with a few trees scattered here and there. It would have been a nice spot for a rest or to eat had it not been for the busy traffic.

Jack slipped his arms around her and she settled back onto his chest. "You can tell me anything," he said soothingly, his warm breath tickled her ear.

"I know, and under normal circumstances I might agree with you..." she stopped. Holding back like this would only succeed in making him anxious, she moved around to face him. She wanted to see his reaction so that she could gauge what to say afterwards. "I found out a few days ago, or rather confirmed my suspicions --."

He pulled back. Unwittingly she had used similar words as six years ago, and this time he knew what she was going to tell him before she spoke. "You're pregnant," Jack stated.

Laura closed her eyes, a familiar sinking feeling of dread settled in her stomach. "Yes," she confirmed. The physical connection was broken as Jack drew away from her; she opened her eyes to see him walking along the side of the road. Away from her.

**RUSSIA**

Children of varying ages ran after one another, screeching and laughing. Some played on the climbing frame and hung from the monkey bars whilst some saw on the benches swinging their legs as they ate sandwiches before rushing back into the park area to do handstands, timing each other to see who could stay upside down the longest. One kid had asked Sydney if she wanted to join in the fun but she had been unable to give an answer, not being able to understand what was being said. Now she was standing on the sidelines. The children pushed and shoved and there was a line tp get on the swings, they seemed to be the favorite amongst them all. A hand grabbed her and pulled her towards the swings, she tried to hang back, nobody forced her to do anything. And then she saw the leader was Anna and Sydney brightened up considerably.

She called out to those gathered around the swings to move over. Anna then pushed Sydney forward ad though presenting her to the crowds. The young American girl kicked at the grass, suddenly unsure of what to do. The other kids regarded this foreigner with undisguised curiosity. "As a visitor..." Anna explained in Russian before repeating it in English for her young charge, "we must be nice to her and allow her to join in our games!" Anna had only been there for a few minutes but practically straight away she took charge, Sydney wanted to be a leader like that. The others parted for her to get to the swings, and that was that, they readily accepted her into their group. Anna sat on one swing and Sydney on the other, the remainder of the kids gathered around and clapped as they swung higher and higher, their names were shouted out loudly.

As a chorus the group counted down from five to one, at the last number Sydney and Anna soared into the air and landed on the grass, once they stopped rolling they jumped up to see who had gone the furthest. "Anna won!" Sydney shouted and they all cheered.

Anna turned to her, grinning, eyes dancing with amusement. "Next time," she grabbed Sydney's hand again as they waved goodbye to the others, "we're leaving now!" she shouted across to her "the lessons are starting." Sydney's stomach did a somersault. How could she go to school when she was only a quarter of the way through understanding them? "I'll teach you everything," Anna added.


	6. Hunting

**Chapter Five**

**

* * *

LOS ANGELES**

Irina almost felt sorry for her handler; almost being the operative word. And then she remembered that he had purposely miss led and betrayed her; and she wasn't very sorry anymore. The little worm that tried to act like a venomous snake every time he met her was currently tied to the metal rail at the back of the pier; a knife was in her hand as she crouched in front of him. She held the blade close to his face and his eyes lingered on the razor sharp edge. It was dark at this time and there was no hope that anybody would pass by and come to his aid, not that any potential rescuer would have fared very well against a pissed of Irina Derevko anyway. She tapped it against the rail and brought it closer and closer until she set it against the ropes that bound his wrists together. The skin was red and sore underneath, if he lived long enough it would be blistered by morning.

He should have wanted her to cut the ropes, a few minutes ago he was practically begging her do to so. But that was then, and now, as she ran the knife across the rope to create the first cut he whimpered in the quiet, asking her to wait. Because this time if she freed him of his bonds he would plummet into the sea. He was hanging over the edge with his legs dangling in mid air. Irina stood over him and he called out to her, his voice caught in his breath and he gulped. His hands slipped through the ropes just a little.

"Please! I will speak!" he cried out.

She slipped a bullet into the chamber of the gun she had produced from her pocket. She held it in front of her and aimed. "Could you come a little closer? I didn't quite catch that" Irina called to him, knowing full well he was too scared to move even if he was able to.

Her handler tried to lift himself upwards with his shaking hands. "I...I can't!" he yelled. He watched the gun then closed his hands, he even had the audacity to scream out "you can't so this to me!"

Irina leant over the railing and ran the knife over his knuckles, gently for the moment. "And you shouldn't have kept our superiors plan from me...but you did, and now you are here" she answered softly. She watched as he grappled with the ropes but didn't try to still his movements, there wasn't anywhere he could go. "You said you wanted to speak now -- it would be better if you were quick about it, I don't think these ropes can last much longer" especially as she had began to cut them again, thread by thread. "Tell me where my daughter is."

**24 HOURS EARLIER**

The ride back to the house had been devoid of conversation. Laura had waited for Jack to return to the car, the wait had not been very long, only a half hour or so but it felt longer. She wondered if he was blaming her now for Sydney's disappearance, as she had done numerous times in the past few days. In her mind it was hard not to but then she knew the truth. There had been no messages left on the answer machine when they got back home and the spark of hope left the both of them again. They knew the chances of a call from either their daughter or the kidnapper was slim this long after but it was still the first thing they checked after being out of the house.

Laura left him alone to think about it, her being close at that time would only make his thoughts stray. When they parted Jack was sitting at the dining room table as before, he shuffled the papers in front of him and acted busy but not really taking in what he was doing. His mind was in turmoil. He knew he should say something and he wished he could find the words suitable to respond to Laura's unexpected, though not completely unwanted, news. But first he had to think on it properly. It wasn't the thought of having another child that unsettled him; it was remembering the conversation with his insensitive colleague. It posed the question of 'would the new child, in time, be as a replacement for the daughter he lost? Would he forget Sydney with the coming of the new arrival?'

Jack did not know the answer and it scared him.

A call came in the dead of the night, the shrill sound making Jack jump out of his sleep in surprise. He grabbed the phone quickly before his tired mind processed that it was the CIA issued phone that was ringing, not the regular home phone; it couldn't be Sydney that was calling. "What?" he muttered grumpily, dispensing with formalities and pleasantries.

"Sorry Jack, did I wake you?" his old buddy Sam was on the phone. He did sound sincerely sorry for the interruption.

"No, I was thinking," Jack looked at his watch, that answer was true three hours ago.

"We have a mission," Sam stated. "To be honest I think you're only wanted because they think you need a distraction, they want to make sure your heads still in the game. I think it's a bad idea --."

Jack cut him off before Sam could put his foot right in it. "No it's a good idea...I do need the distraction" he grudgingly admitted. Sam was one of the only people he did trust to really talk to; Sam and Arvin were true friends.

"It's not that they want you to work so soon that I think is the problem, it's the actual mission we've been assigned" Sam stopped talking, not wanting to speak in depth over the phone. "We set out in two hours."

Jack put down the phone and sighed. This did not sound good. A few minutes later he moved quietly up the stairs, unsure of whether his wife was sleeping and not wanting to wake her if she was. Stopping in the doorway he saw Laura curled up, deep in slumber, in the centre of the bed. He tiptoed inside and sat on the side of the bed, absently smoothing the creases in the sheets. He pulled them over her bare shoulders, taking the quiet time to watch her. He was angry with himself for his reaction, he could have handled it far better than he did; it was something he only realised with hindsight. He held a short, folded note in his hands stating why he had left. He laid it against the clock where she would see it upon waking.

Laura stirred in her sleep and he kept still, not wanting her to wake. She deserved to sleep, after all that had happened, he did not have the heart to wake her knowing she would not get back to sleep once she found out he was leaving on a mission. Especially when his mind was elsewhere. Jack stood over her for a few seconds before whispering, "I would never let anything happen to you or the baby." It was a fear he knew she must have but never voiced, especially now. He swore to himself that he would do anything to keep his promise, he wouldn't fail again. Jack wished he had done better this time. The Agent left as quietly as he entered.

Irina opened her eyes once she was positive she was alone again, once her eyes adjusted to the darkness she started at the open bedroom door. A weight had lifted off her shoulders. She succumbed to sleep again without seeing the note that awaited her.

* * *

Sydney looked at the set of blocks in front of her for a couple of minutes before actually starting the task that was appointed of her and the eight other children that stood at the desks in the perfectly clean, white room. She wanted to actually analyze the blocks properly before darting in and figuring it out, like some of the other children were doing. She guessed, however meaningless this seemed to her, that it must have been important or they would not have been told to do it. Sydney hadn't told the teacher -- or rather instructor, as he had told them to call him, that she had already seen this layout before; in her father's study back home, and had tinkered around with the blocks then. There was a stirring of memory and she assembled the shaped blocks into the tower she knew they would make. 

She was more interested in the plastic trays that were on the instructor's desk. The stern and businesslike man that taught them would not let his young students touch the guns just yet, he said they would though, eventually, when they were more advanced.

A shadow was cast over Sydney as the instructor came to a stop in front of her. He nodded and then disassembled the blocks. "Good. Again, faster next time" he walked away, the small heels of his patent black shoes tap tapping on the floor until he stopped in front of the next desk.

Sydney did not know why they were being asked to do this, it was different and strange and for some reason it felt wrong. This was simple and she was bored. She thought better than to ask when they could go outside to play. Sighing, Sydney collected the blocks together and started again.

* * *

**UNKNOWN LOCATION **

Jack freed himself from his parachute and ducked into the bushes as he screwed it up into a ball and kept it well hidden, where nobody could find it. Looking to his left he saw Sam and the other four agents doing the same. Ahead of them was the warehouse they were targeting. If the Intel they had received was correct the derelict building was only just aptly guarded and only then by hired guards, nobody that was particularly loyal to their part time employer. Inside were the wife and teenaged son of a rich but not very well known family; usually something such as this would not require the Agency's help but this time a special favour had been called in.At the time Jack did not know it was a set up.

The six agents came together under the cover of darkness beneath a group of trees; they conversed in hushed tones while they kept an eye on the warehouse ahead of them. It looked as though the kidnappers were relying on the large quantity of trees and brush around them to keep their shady dealings hidden from view. If the victims escaped there was a hundred or so miles of nothing in every direction. There was only an hour left of sunlight as the team split up, a second team on the other side were doing the same. The man that had called in the tip had been cut off before he could reveal who he was and so they were under orders to take the kidnappers alive, if it were possible, so they could find out who the anonymous caller was. If he was willing to betray his own people this time he could help them again later on.

Surveying the lay of the land and going off what they knew so far the mission did not appear to be overly difficult. Each agent listened to the instructions dictated to them over the radio from the team leader, and snuck forward.

* * *

"Couldn't you have found a better place to keep us?" the 'kidnap victim' asked in a haughty voice as she pulled away the tie that covered her mouth, her wrists, though bound together, were loose and enabled her to move a little bit. She regarded the rotting wooden walls, broken glass windows and incessant dripping water with disdain. 

She had been posing similar questions for the last few hours she had been there, if Rob Cooper had a choice he would have shot her a long time ago. He had no patience and her voice grated on his nerves. "You're not being paid to talk, you're being paid to act helpless. Would you like me to make that easier for you?" he pressed the gun against her head.

Patricia Lawrence just cocked her head to one side and scoffed. "Oh give me a break, if you shoot me you won't get any money" she turned away from him and he moved to the other side of the room, wishing heartily that he really could just put the middle-aged bat out of her misery. Patricia glanced at her son. "We won't be here much longer."

"I don't see why you had to include me in this" Steven grumbled. He was using his irritation to mask his fear; though he knew now that this was a simple ruse to fool someone, though he did not know what for, when he had actually been torn from his bed in the dead of the night the sixteen year old had been terrified. He had been told to keep his mouth shut and not to struggle and unsurprisingly, with muscle men on either side as he was dragged to the navy blue van outside his home, he had planned on doing just that anyway. It was a couple of hours later when his mother had let him know that taking him had been a spur of the moment thing 'to make it more believable'.

The laughable thing was he had been minutes from returning home when he was kidnapped. Steven had been told, in no uncertain terms, he was not to go out that night. Being a rebellious teenager he had done the complete opposite. He had climbed the tree outside his window and scampered back into bed before his door was thrust open. His eyes had been tight closed in an effort to look asleep. His mother had not even noticed yet that he was wearing his coat, jumper and jeans. He brushed the whole scary ordeal off as another of her scams. He felt sorry for the poor guy that was being tricked.

At the far end of the room the four kidnappers spoke over a game of cards and bottles of cheap beer. So far he had counted eight men, the other half he didn't know the whereabouts of and if there were more he hadn't seen them. They were prepped as though preparing to go into battle. The kid felt panic again.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked his mother in a quiet voice.

"It's just a favour I'm repaying. All we have to do is stay in here just a little longer and then we get to go home again" she explained in a tired voice. She was beginning to have second thoughts herself; they weren't supposed to be here this long. Patricia had been told the CIA would get a call asking for help and they would come straight away. The con artist actually felt fear for a minute as she wondered if something had gone wrong. "Once we're rescued we'll be asked questions. Just tell them you don't know anything."

Steve just nodded mutely. It wasn't like he knew anything worth telling anyway. He shouted across to Rob "I need to use the bathroom."

**LOS ANGELES**

The motel room was dirty, towels littered the bathroom floor and the sheets on the double bed were as yet unmade, a wire was hanging half out of the lamp causing it to flicker. The wardrobe, and four drawers of a five-door dresser were empty. Where the fifth drawer might be was anyone's guess. Apart from looking like a bomb had exploded in it, the room had a definite lack of life. Kandabarov, her handler, was nowhere to be seen and from the looks of things he had left a while ago. Irina slammed the door shut and headed for the front desk.

The girl behind the desk looked too young to even be in high school let alone have a job, at a sleazy motel no less. She was sat behind the desk reading a magazine and swirling round and round on the chair. She wore her black hair neatly back in a pony tail and tried to look grown up and sophisticated in a white shirt, dark grey skirt and high heels. The look was tarnished somewhat with the chipped pink nail varnish. She looked up when she heard the outer door swing open and set aside her magazine. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

Irina stopped at the desk and looked around before talking to the girl, seeing the name tag she began politely "hello Catherine. There was a Mr. Charles in room 12, can you tell me what happened to him?"

Catherine bit her lip and looked hesitant. "Ummm...I'm not supposed to give out information on the guests" she said apologetically. Her hand rested on the check in book "but as long as your not asking to see his room or anything...I think it might be alright" Mr. Charles, she remembered, was a complete ass.

"I wouldn't want to get you into any trouble."

"Oh it's no trouble. Just so long as my boss doesn't find out" Catherine looked down at the list of names on the now open book. She tapped a nail against his name. "It's got here that he checked out tow days ago. Sorry I can't be of more help."

Irina shook her head and smiled. "No, thank you, you've been very helpful" she turned around and walked back outside, scowling. The little creep was running.

* * *

Jimmy Turner was the type of guy that drifted around, was impulsive and if he woke up one day wanting to run naked in the sea, he would do just that. He had tried it once when he was drunk, a passerby contacted the police and he was thrown in a cell over night and let go the next morning with a slap on the wrist, he hadn't tried that particular stunt again but had indulged in many other strange antics. He could charm the pants of a bouncer and talk himself out of a getting a ticket when caught speeding in a stolen car. He had gotten out of that specific mishap when he threatened the real owner of the car into telling the cops he had given permission to borrow the vehicle. He was a collector of facts; whether they were useful or not didn't matter, if he was told something or heard a bit of information he wasn't supposed to he filed it away for later use and would never forget it. 

He was something of a chameleon and walked in many circles, the 28 year old could prance into a fancy party one night after spending the previous one on a park bench high. People either liked him or hated him, never in between; those that wanted him dead would never actual kill him because, despite how annoying he could be, he also amused them occasionally. Jimmy Carlton was a useful fellow and was willing to help anyone that had the right amount of money. With all that he did know he could easily work with the good guys but never would because he deemed them more corrupt than he was. He had one weakness however, not that he thought it was a weakness of course when it worked in his favour. He was a sucker for a pretty face; especially when that pretty face held the name Sophie Templin.

He was strewn across the freshly cleaned bar as though it was a bed, his head lying against his folded arms. He wasn't drunk; it was too early for him for that. But he did have one heck of a hangover from the night before, luckily for him he was friends with the bartender and the boss owed said bartender a favour and so Jimmy was still there that morning. He was seriously planning making the place his permanent home. The club was closed, the painted sign hung on the main metal door said as much, but Sophie sauntered in as though she owned the place, not caring that she wasn't supposed to be there.

More awake now, Jimmy sat up, his legs hanging over the bar and a wide, cheeky grin on his face. "And what can I do for you today?" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively but knew he didn't have a chance.

"What I only come to you for" she hit him below the belt and his grin vanished. "I want information." 'Sophie' took a seat on one of the blue stools, Jimmy slid off the bar and sat at the table across from her. Once they were both settled, and Jimmy more awake than he was likely to get for the rest of the day, she began. "Kandabarov is missing, I think you might be able to help me find him."

He took out a cigarette and twiddled with it in his fingers. He had to keep active, and when he was sat down he tended to mess with whatever was close by. This time it was a cigarette, though he did not actually spoke. It was a pack he had lifted from a drunk the night before. "I haven't seen him" Jimmy answered.

"You're lying" she stated and leant back against the bar.

He acted shocked, his tone upon replying sounded hurt. "I am not!"

Sophie smirked. "Whenever you lie, you lean back on one elbow" she pointed out. Jimmy straightened up in the seat "where is he, Jimmy?"

"Word has it he's laying low until he can get out of the country. He didn't tell me much -- he doesn't exactly hold me high on his most trusted list. He came by here two days ago to pick up some money...I swear to you I don't know exactly where he went, but I do know he frequents a low class bar called The Blue Lady." He was telling the truth and she knew it; he had never lied to her yet, and though there was a first time for everything that day wasn't it. She thanked him and made her way for the door when he called out. "Who he running from?"

Irina turned around. "Me" and left the club.

**UNKNOWN LOCATION**

When the black gloved hand grabbed Steven by the shoulder he almost screamed, he already had a nervous disposition just then and being startled out of his mind was not the way to calm him down. He took in the black-garbed man before him, and then the two other men behind him. The young boy felt a rush of relief "you're here to get me and my mom out?"

Sam nodded and brushed past Steven to sneak a look in the main room, where the remaining victim was being held. "Yes we are; now I want you to go with this man here --."

'This man here' was Jack, and he objected fiercely, no one was going to stop him from taking the kidnappers down. He motioned for one of the other men, Agent Pearce, to come forward. "**This** man will get you to safety; are you hurt?"

Steven shook his head, not liking that he was being passed from one person to the other. If they couldn't agree on who should take him, he was liable to get outside on his own. Agent Pearce had no objections and he took the boy by the arm. "Everything's going to be fine" the man said softly.

"You don't need to be in there" Sam called across to Jack in hushed tones. His friend was concentrating on the room beyond, listening but blatantly ignoring him. A stubborn mask was set on his face "killing those lowlifes is not going to make losing Sydney any easier for you" Sam said angrily. He did not want this mission jeopardized.

Jack spun around to face his partner. "This is not about my daughter!" he hissed.

"Not originally, no. But you're making it that way; it's why you were so gung-ho about accepting this mission. They are kidnappers, Sydney was kidnapped --."

"We have a job to do, I suggest you be quiet before we're discovered" Jack spoke as thought he were talking to an underling. He turned his back on Sam before he could respond. Behind him the remaining agent on their team sighed in relief; he wasn't anxious to get involved and break up an argument between those two.

In the main room gunfire exploded and all hell broke loose.

* * *

The team leader lay on the floor next to one of the now dead kidnappers, a bullet had caught him in the thigh on a riccochet and he gripped the wound to stem the flow of blood. Robert Cooper hovered over him, gripping his gun nervously. Cards were strewn over the floor next to a broken beer bottle. His comrade picked it up and held it at arms left, he sidestepped over to Patricia and pressed it against her neck. She let out a shriek and tried to pull away. The bottle weilding good grabbed her by the hair and forced her to stay still. None of them were expecting this, there weren't supposed to be this many agents on the team sent to retrieve Patricia and her son. That wasn't the plan and now everything had altered they didn't know what to do; great thinkers they were not. 

In any case shooting each other to pieces wasn't the way to continue, Cooper was aiming at the team leader and his other friend and the goon were both near the woman, threatening her and warning the agents. Where the remaining four were he didn't know, he swore they wouldn't see the money they were owed let alone get to take it home with them.

* * *

Pearce pushed Steven down where he couldn't be seen and cautioned the boy against returning to the building - something that was the last thing on his mind; he was a teenager; that did not always come hand in hand with stupid. Pearce ran fast and low back towards the warehouse, he was almost at the back door when the gunshot rang out and he stopped and hesitantly moved forward. He heard a commotion close by and he ducked down and crawled forward. One of the kidnappers was darting through the trees to safety, Pearce shot after him. He was on the track team in college and, even over the rough terrain; he made short work of catching up to the other man. 

Unfortunately he couldn't dodge bullets, especially when he wasn't even facing the shooter. Before he fell he saw a detonator in the man's hand, and heard the other kidnapper get away. The shooter moved off in the other direction, chuckling all the while.

Once he got his breath back Pearce was chuckling too. Bulletproof vests were wonderful things. Once he was certain the shooter was far enough away he pulled the radio from his pocket and held it to his mouth. "Out...Get out of the building. There's a bomb."

"Out...the...a...bomb" the scattered words came through the radio but Jack and Sam only really needed to hear "bomb" for the message to get through. And from the sound of Pearce's voice it didn't seem like he could talk much more anyway. Both Agents shared the same look of 'crap'.

Inside the main room the kidnappers listened as the garbled message came through on the team leaders' radio. Striding across to Patricia he hauled her out of the seat and pressed his gun against her back. "Nobody sets me and my men up" he whispered savagely in her ear.

"No...no...I had nothing to do with this" he forced her to move back with him, in the direction of the main door.

The Agents moved forward, closer and closer until they came to a stop beside their fallen leader. From the left Jack, Sam and the third agent revealed themselves. The kidnappers were becoming skittish. Outside the shooters finger hovered over the trigger on the detonator.

**LOS ANGELES**

Kandabarov was a man that loved arguments and disagreements, any type of situation where he could show just how nasty he could really be. He wasn't in that mood at that moment. A gun was being aimed at his head and the woman holding the gun was not afraid to get her hands dirty.

Irina had not found her handler at The Blue Lady, but a rather talkative worker there had told her where he might be at that time. They were in the alley of a Chinese restaurant. Where the club he amused himself at was the epitome of bad taste, this place was its polar opposite. Kandabarov held up his hands to shield his face as if they could really stop a bullet, "Irina...you know there are specific channels that you must go through if you wish to contact me...is this really necessary?" he tried to sound authorative but his voice was squeaky then and it only succeeded in making his sound quite comical.

"You know as well as I do that if I went through the proper channels at the moment I would disappear as fast as my daughter" Irina pushed him back against the wall and he winced as his head connected with the bottom of the fire escape. "I want to know who ordered it" she had long ceased to think this was a simple case of kidnapping. There had been no calls or ransom note, orders of money. Sydney's disappearance was related to either Jack's work or hers.

"I swear...I don't know what you are talking about!"

She grabbed him by the collar. "I think you need to right incentive to talk." Kandabarov was right in not liking the sound of that.

**THE PIER**

Irina stilled her movements on the knife and Kandabarov breathed a sigh of relief. She stood over him, waiting expectantly. He proved to be a slow talker when fear had overtaken him. "I...I don't know _specifically_ where she is..." her hand moved back to work on the ropes and he screamed in the darkness "wait!" he rested his head against his aching arms. "She was taken while you were meeting with me" he made no mention of the Doctor's appointment beforehand. "I was just told to stall you...that you had become a liability." The handler met her cold stare with pleading eyes. "They took her to Russia" knowing that that would be her next stop he hastened to add. "You would never be allowed back into the country -- they are watching you."

Irina stepped back from the rail and determined that he was telling the truth, and knew no more. He had held out longer than she imagined but then threatening somebody in the way that she was, was a decent enough way of ensuring somebody would break. "Not that wasn't too hard; was it?" She started off back to her car when his cry made her stop.

"They were going to kill you."

"Why did they decide not too?" she assumed the order had been called off otherwise she would either be dead or fighting off attackers by now.

"Your child is important --" Irina walked slowly back towards him, to ask him more. She held out her arm to bring him up when he fell limp, she pulled back abruptly. Blood splatter covered the rail, his clothes and his head. Irina followed the trajectory she believed the bullet had taken, with her eyes and saw the nothing. But someone was out there, watching. And they hadn't wanted Kandabarov to say anything more.

**UNKNOWN LOCATION**

Jack, Sam and two more CIA Agents landed roughly on the ground, thrown by the force of the explosion as they fled the building. The warehouse landed in tatters around them. The kidnappers, Patricia, two more agents and the team leader were inside, dead now. The mission was a profound failure.


	7. Extraction

**Before I start the chapter I would just like to say thank you for reading "Different" and for taking the time to review and leaving your wonderful comments.**

_Danielle87_: After this chapter, or it may be the one after that, I will be skipping ahead 6 years or so to when Sydney is 12 and Nadia 6. and then stopping there for a couple of chapters before jumping forward again. Jack and Irina won't be finding Sydney properly just yet...but in this chapter...

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* * *

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**Chapter 6**

* * *

**ROME, ITALY**

The day had started out relatively normal; or as normal as it could do for a woman that was living a lie. Maybe not a complete lie, but her life was built on a shaky foundation at best. Married to a man, a CIA Agent that she had only gotten to know because of the information he held. And now, many years later; in love -- though she did not admit that to the part of her that was still KGB, with two children. Despite the fact that it was almost a year since her oldest child's disappearance she could never forget her, never believe the very real possibility that she was no longer alive. If Sydney were dead she would know, would feel it. Besides she had received no word that Sydney had been terminated. She had numerous contacts that the KGB did not know about, a few of which still resided in the mother country; the one place she could no longer gain access to.

Even if Irina had been able to go there and search for her daughter herself, instead of waiting impatiently for second hand information, she could not have done. To do so would surely have meant the death of her youngest daughter. Those nine months had been torturous; she had felt too vulnerable knowing that her old bosses could choose to take her life at any second. Her ex-handler was evidence of that; shot in the head whilst hanging over a pier on one still night in summer. Even now, her three-month-old daughter could be taken, just like Sydney. It was why both she and Jack were so vigilant. He had set up a protective escort for now, to watch over them. It was necessary but slightly ludicrous, Irina could take care of anything.

Not that her husband knew that. Besides, she had some of her own people playing babysitter, too. However, the Agents Jack had working for him were not CIA, she knew them and how they worked. These people were something different.

But now, as Irina Derevko stared down the barrel of the gun that was leveled unwavering at her head, she wondered how she would ever find answers to her questions if she were dead.

**24 Hours Earlier**

**LOS ANGELES**

The Agents at the desks, lined orderly and in the dozens, acknowledged Jack with a nod or "hello" as he passed by them on his way to his friend's office. He knew a large majority of them by now, had worked with a few of them personally in one form or another. And they were all clueless, in all probability would stay that way. Jack only knew the truth because Sloane had detailed everything to him upon his recruitment. This underground, semi-lit, dull coloured place that all in the sub level knew as SD-6 was not affiliated with the CIA. Never was and never would be.

This was the way it had to be, the CIA were not expending any more resources on finding Sydney and that was unacceptable. Sloane was willing to do anything to aid Jack in getting her back, it was that reason, the only reason he had agreed to come here. He had seen first hand how SD-6 worked, how his old friend ran things. They were thorough here and ready to do anything, within reason, to get what they wanted. SD-6 got places faster, got results quicker without all the red tape; and Sloane allowed him a freer rein than he had at the CIA, as long as he got things done.

They were closer to finding Sydney; she had been spotted since her kidnapping. He had arrived at the supposed location she was being held minutes too late. The men and women on the extraction team had learnt to steer clear of Jack Bristow after a failure. Jack thought he was so close to finding his missing child, he had no clue how wrong he was, that he was never within 1000 miles of her let alone shouting distance. It was a lie to keep him at SD-6.

He had not told Laura he was no longer with the CIA. When she kissed him goodbye and told him to be careful she had no idea she was really watching him drive to the enemy of their country. He violently disliked the lie but it was the one rule he had to follow, nobody could know of his affiliation with SD-6, not even his beloved wife. It was for her protection though; if he told her the truth she would be swiftly killed. He could not stand to lose anyone else. Technically Jack was still with the CIA; he was just on extended leave, his boss had not accepted his resignation. They were allowing the leave because the director knew how much of an asset he was to the Agency, and because he needed the time off to come to terms with Sydney's disappearance. And until he left completely he was still able to use their resources.

Jack came to a stop outside Sloane's office; the man himself was on the phone. He waved Jack in and motioned for him to pull up a chair. A few minutes passed before Sloane put down the phone and when he did he smiled rather triumphantly, that meant good news. Jack contained his impatience; it was about his daughter, it had to be! He was not to be disappointed this day. Sloane looked happy for him, almost as excited as Jack was sure to be. "We've found her, Jack. At first we weren't sure, there have been so many near misses these past few months. We think she was moved from her previous location because someone else is searching for her. A lot of people are very interested in your little girl."

"Why?" Jack was partly asking himself but hoped Sloane could provide some sort of insight.

Sloane however, merely shrugged. "I don't know. But Sydney is special, apparently somebody else has seen that." Jack missed the Mona Lisa smile by a second. "You know as much as I do that we need to get her out of this. We don't know what she's been told or what she's heard that could be useful."

Jack looked up sharply. "Sydney is a child, I will not use my daughter for information."

The older man waved away the accusation. "I know," he agreed and proceeded carefully. "I could have phrased that more delicately. What I meant was; whoever else is looking for her will seek to find out what Sydney may have learned this last year or so. It might be information we can use against her kidnappers, I would imagine you want to take down the people that ordered her kidnapping."

"Of course," he answered calmer. "But she is only 7 years old, I don't want her to be put through anything else. Where is she?" he then asked anxiously.

"Rome. Intel indicates she arrived yesterday accompanied by an, as yet, unidentified man and woman. It's taken this long to ascertain whether Sydney was the young girl that was with them. I didn't tell you earlier because I couldn't be sure it was her," Sloane told him sincerely. He pushed a thin manila folder across the table to Jack, who took it and flipped it open to the first page. The picture that had been taken was very grainy; blowing the photo up did not serve to make it much clearer. The woman that held the hand of the young girl was facing away from the camera and the man's face was barely recognisable since a hat obscured his features quite effectively. "Reports tell the young girl was American, despite speaking Russian."

Jack nodded. It was to be expected really, they were integrating her into their society. It also indicated they never intended to give her back. Jack could only think of one reason she would have been taken, though it was a shaky theory at best. "Project Christmas," he stated.

"It is possible they believe you used Sydney to test the effectiveness of the Project," Sloane agreed, immediately on the same wavelength as his friend. "Did you speak to anyone--?"

"Of course I didn't," Jack interjected.

"Not even Laura?" Arvin checked, wary.

Jack shook his head in answer, hiding his indignation. "I know the importance of the Project better than anyone, Laura has no idea; and even if she did, whom would she tell?" he countered.

"Even the unlikeliest of people can be turned, Jack, you know that." He seemed to watch the younger man more carefully for a moment, checking for any signs that Jack was holding something back.

Jack noticed but did not comment. Though he partly saw the need for such questions he was angry that Arvin would doubt him, and suspect his wife. Unless he had been ordered to do so from someone higher up. Project Christmas was a CIA Op but that did not stop his superiors from being interested. "Laura knows nothing," jack answered, firm in his response.

* * *

"Why did you not inform me sooner?" Irina was stood by her car outside the Sloane's home, Nadia was balanced in one arm whilst she held the phone in the other. The baby, bored with the lack of attention, reached up to try and fiddle with one of the earrings as her mother spoke. 

"We had to be sure it was your daughter," the Russian man on the other end of the line answered. "I can't be certain but it looked like she was also being surveyed by someone else. I'm running a check on the man I saw, if I get a hit I will call back." The conversation continued for a couple more minutes as the Russian, Zolokov gave her the location that Sydney was being held. "You were lucky, they only moved her because they thought people were coming close to finding her in Russia. Your plan worked, we made them come out into the open. I will extract her, da?"

"I will do it myself. I want to see the people that took my daughter from me," Irina answered, a promise of danger was apparent in her tone. No sane person would want to trade places with Sydney's kidnappers. She knew that if anything went wrong there would be no one to blame but herself; Irina couldn't let anybody else take on this mission, she had to be the one to do it. This was too personal. The conversation ended soon after. At first she had not been sure that she could trust Zolokov, the stocky Russian had left the KGB's service 4 years earlier, he had proved useful though as had small group of his comrades that Irina had also had work for her the last year.

As she was locking her car door Emily emerged from her home and waved from the doorstep. "Jack called 5 minutes ago, he asked me to let you know that work has him delayed but he'll get back to you as soon as possible," she relayed as she made her way towards her friend and goddaughter. "And how's your little ray of sunshine?" Emily beamed.

"Hungry," Laura laughed before continuing. "I hate to do this but can you look after Nadia for a little longer? I have to go out of town for a short while. I should be back tomorrow, I hope it isn't a problem."

"On the contrary," Emily answered and reached out to take the bubbly baby from her mother. "I'd love to have her. It's a welcome sight to have another child around."

Laura nodded but hid back a hopeful smile. With a little luck, by tomorrow, Sydney would be back where she belonged.

**ROME, ITALY**

Sydney sat cross-legged on a stone backless bench, completely motionless as she observed three sparrows hopping inside a birdbath three feet ahead of her. It was her version of watching the birds at the park back home, her real home. It was something she had not done in a while. She closed her eyes, feeling the sun beat down on her as she tried to visualize an old and familiar scene. Her memories were still there but she noticed all too keenly that she was starting to forget, something she had, months ago, tearfully promised herself she would not do. Sydney worried every so often that one day she would forget everything about her old life, less confusing life. She could only remember her parents faces because of the old collage she had put together at school only hours before being told the tragic news that they had died; the seven year old still choked up when she remembered that horrible moment. She could not even remember what they sounded like, nor recall what her favorite teacher looked like, and what colour was her room again? Did she have a pet or was it just one of those things she had continually asked her parents for but never got?

Her lack of ability to bring memories to the fore annoyed the heck out of her. It had promoted her to write in her notebook, whenever she remembered something about her old life she jotted it down, bits and pieces of a life forever immortalized in ink.

Sydney still had dreams though. Sure sometimes she would wake with a heavy heart when she remembered the truth, but for a little while she really was wrapped up all snug and warm at Christmas with her mother and father, in front of the biggest and most grand tree she had ever set eyes on.

"Sydney?" a voice shouted out for her from the back door to the garden she was currently in.

"Zdes', tyotya!" Sydney called back in her aunt's native tongue.

Yelena appeared, her hands on her hips in mock annoyance. "I have been searching for you!" she took a seat next to her niece, "I am pleased you are practicing your Russian. Ochen' dobry, Sydney."

"Spasiba," she thanked. "I'm bored, I want to play a game."

Yelena looked at her watch, there was still time. "Kharasho, what do you suggest?"

"I think – ya…shp…shp…"

"You can say it in English," Yelena suggested.

Giving up, for now, Sydney agreed. "Okay, I want to play "I spy"."

* * *

There were 2 hours until sunset and it was a 45-minute drive to reach the villa where Sydney was being held. The search on the people with her at the airport had not been completely fruitless; Zolokov had come up with one name, for the man. He was, however, only a hired gun so it was probable he would know next to nothing except he was to watch over a young girl. Irina would question him if the possibility arose but it was no great loss if he got away. Spread out on the table was a layout of a villa close to the one Sydney was inside; all the homes were near identical so this blueprint would have to do. Zolokov had gone to the villa before she arrived in Rome and was currently surveying the area; she awaited his call impatiently. Time seemed to have slowed since she set foot in the country. 

As she reached into the fridge for a bottled drink the phone rang and she picked up the handset immediately and waited for the caller to speak first. "It's Zolokov," he identified before proceeding. "I think they know they are being watched, there had been increased activity around the villa the last half an hour. It is my belief that they are leaving, If you are going to get your daughter, come now!" he informed hastily.

Irina slammed the phone down, not bothering to pick up the handset as it fell to the floor; she was already out the door.

* * *

"How the hell can they know?" Jack demanded of the team sent to assist him with the recovery of his daughter. 

They were stood, almost huddled together inside the small space of a supposed electrical companies van that was parked 6 houses down from the villa. One of the agents was a tall man that towered over most of his teammates; he had joined SD-6 two months after Jack after being transferred from another SD cell. He was the first to speak up, "We don't know how it happened, agent Bristow. It wasn't any of us, we've been too careful to be seen. I would suggest its breach on the side of whoever else is after the kid."

Still fuming, Jack responded quickly. If the kidnappers were moving there was no time for this, there was little more than an hour before total darkness and they might have leave the villa before then. "That kid has a name, agent Richardson, and I will remind you not to assume anything. Just because they have not retaliated in any way doesn't mean you have not been discovered," he chided gruffly.

Sufficiently cowed, Richardson fell silent for the time being. Another of the agents, Beth Hart, had been on surveillance detail and now she interrupted the two men to effectively halt any potential argument with, "Of the 12 inside the house 3 of the men just left in an unmarked car. Your daughter wasn't with them. That leaves just 9 to guard her," she added, in case the others couldn't do the math. She propped her glasses on the top of her head and a couple of tense seconds passed until she spoke again. "Uh…agent Bristow, I have a visual on your daughter. I think she's with the woman from the airport."

Jack did not need to be told twice, in one quick stride he was at the small monitor that Beth had been viewing. There she was, in the garden tossing a big red ball to the unidentified woman. Sydney was smiling. He felt a tremendous amount of relief and his worries lifted. He was seeing her again after all this time, alive and seemingly well and happy. He wanted to rush in and scoop her up there and then but caution and a greater reasoning stopped him. If he went there now he would, in all probability, be shot and he would never have this chance again; he was not going to blow it.

He only wished he could get a better look at the woman, burn her image into his mind so that he could find and put her away later on. She turned to the side slightly and through the fuzziness of the video image caught a glimpse of her smile. For a second his heart almost skipped a beat, she could almost be mistaken for Laura.

Beth broke his thought process. "They're moving her."

* * *

"She was in the garden a second ago!" Zolokov barked down the radio. Bushes and trees lined the perimeter of the garden; the Russian operative was hidden behind the metal spiked fence that was just beyond the foliage. "I can't…" he shifted to the side, "no wait. I have her in my sights again. The dark haired woman is taking her back inside and two men are now with them; that leaves 7 more throughout the house." 

Irina listened carefully from her place inside a sleek blue jaguar she had parked three houses down from the villa, before responding. "Get your men into position," she ordered and looked into the rearview mirror to apply another coat of lipstick as she checked the van some distance behind her. "And keep the CIA off my back – don't shoot to kill," Irina instructed before starting the engine and driving up to the villa.

Once there she stepped out into the fading sunlight. Irina was unrecognizable, of course. Her usual thick brown hair was now a platinum blonde and piled on top of her head in a fancy do that was hardly worth the effort, it was a wig and it itched like crazy. Black sunglasses covered light green eyes, and matched the leather pants she wore. A light jacket befitting the weather, over a red, shimmering thin strapped top completed the ensemble. "Nancy Adshead" faced the house, she could feel eyes on her from all sides as she sauntered up to the front door and rapped upon it. The clothing she wore was sultry on her and she knew it, the plus side being it would not hinder her should she need to fight her way back out.

The door was opened and a bushy bearded man pushing 50 let his eyes roam over her before he spoke, "something I can do for you?" he was Russian without a doubt, but despite being in Rome did not bother to attempt the language.

She worked it to her advantage and, affecting a ditzy tone with an American accent replied. "I'm just so glad you speak English! Do you know how much of a pain it is doing this job and not being able to understand what people want you to do?"

The man cocked an eyebrow and replied. "Maybe it would be better for you to move to a place you know the language of, da?"

"Well," she twirled a few strands of blonde hair around a finger. "I just wanted to get to meet come exotic people," "Nancy" said coyly. She leant against the doorway and peered inside, "So, we gonna get started?"

He chuckled and mimicked her movement, shaking his head. "Now, what are you talking about?" he folded his hairy, muscular arms across his broad chest.

"Nancy" laughed and tilted her head to one side. "Well somebody called from this address. Said they were looking for entertainment," she explained. "All you gotta do is sit back and relax," she slipped past and eyed the Russian provocatively. It was all about first impressions.

* * *

"They can't be planning on going just yet," agent Hart observed. 

Richardson nodded and watched as the door closed behind the guard and Nancy. "Must get a lot of mileage," he commented, earning a disgusted look from Beth. "I was talking about the car!"

"Speaking of which; run a trace on it. I want to know who that woman is," Jack spoke directly to Beth Hart. "The rest of you get into position."

* * *

"Why do we have to leave so soon?" Sydney all but whined as she followed Yelena up the stairs to her room, she was flanked by two goons that looked as they had had one too many bar fights, and their noses acquainted with too many fists. It prompted an innocent question from her when she stopped to face them, "how did your noses get so funny?" 

One of the brutes sneered . "And this kid is supposed to be a next generation soldier? She does not even know a battled scar when she sees one," he pushed her forward up the stairs after her aunt who had entered one of the rooms on the first floor, out of earshot of the others. "Don't ask questions, brat. Be a good little girl and go to your room."

Sydney glared at him and retorted as she turned around. "I think you walked into a door."

Behind the two bodyguards Irina seethed, but looked on with pride as her daughter stood up to them both; giving back as good as she could considering her small stature. She watched carefully as they guided her, none too carefully, up the stairs. Sydney was safe and soon would be back with her.

On the first floor Sydney headed into her room where she lay down on the bed in the middle of the left-hand wall. Yelena sat down beside her, "I wish we did not have to leave," she murmured.

Sydney propped herself up on the pillows and replied too solemnly for one so young. "Why don't we stay? I want to stay here with you, and we can bring babushka here."

"You know why," her aunt replied sadly.

She nodded. "Because the bad people will get me; are they coming now, tyotya Yelena?"

Yelena ran her fingers through the child's hair, just like her mother used to do to her and Katya and Irina when they needed to be soothed and calmed. "Da, I think so, babuchka."

The brute of a guard that had argued with Sydney downstairs entered the room. "A car is waiting, Yelena. You will leave first."

She stood and stared him down. "I came and allowed Sydney to come on the condition we were not seperated!"

He shrugged in a 'don't care' attitude. "I have my orders, if you don't listen to mine I have no compunctions about killing you to make things easier," he scoffed threateningly.

Sydney had gotten off the bed by this time; she took Yelena's hand. "Don't worry, I'll stay here," she held up her arms to be hugged, which her aunt duly did.

"Do what they say. I will see you at the airport," she promised.

The bodyguard led her away.

* * *

The man that had opened the door to "Nancy" would, if he was conscious, wish he had told her to get lost. He currently lay below 7 steps that led into an unlit basement, the door to which was now locked. He would not be waking up anytime soon; when he did he would wish that he had not. 

Irina tossed the key into the bin, adjusted her top, and slipped the man's gun into her jacket pocket. That done she stepped out of the kitchen and quietly into the living room where, 5 feet in front of her, she spotted the less vocal of the bodyguards she had seen with Sydney earlier. She only wished she could get her hands on the other one. He did not hear her near silent approach and barely moaned as she smashed his head against the wooden coffee table he had been standing over. He was just another that would wake with a mountain of a migraine. As yet she did not use the gun, it would cause too much of a commotion.

Zolokov was under orders to move in only if necessary, the same went for his men. They were sufficient at their jobs, but trigger-happy, Irina did not want Sydney caught in a crossfire.

She moved forward to the stairs and laid her right hand upon the polished banister. Irina stepped onto the bottom stair as a smoke grenade crashed through the front window. The havoc she had been trying to avoid, ensued.

* * *

"She was taken to the first room on the left side of the first floor; we'll cover you!" agent Richardson shouted over the sound of breaking glass. Gas masks protected them from the smoke filled room as they entered one cautious step at a time until they secured the immediate area. The men in the house were unprepared for this; they had been told there was still time to leave before any form of attack. They currently stayed clear of the living room. They had the weapons with which to fight but with the gas had no way of knowing completely who the correct target was. Without any ventilation the room would not clear. For now the agents of SD-6 had the advantage. How long that would last was anyone's guess. 

The path clear, Jack darted up the stairs.

* * *

The bedroom was empty. The window had bars across it and some distance behind the closed door was a contingent of supposed CIA agents. 

A door opened; it was the bedroom door. Irina heard the unmistakable click of a gun, safety off. She knew who it would be so there was no reason to turn around and identify the gunman. A fathers instinct ensured he would come here after securing the downstairs room, it could be considered a flaw but she could not fault him as she had done the same thing after all. She heard the sound of some kind of object dropping to the ground and in her peripheral vision saw a discarded gas mask. The only thing on her side was the fact that it was dark within the room; she had killed the light before he entered for this eventuality. She knew he would have been on the CIA team. For a few seconds her heart hammered; and then he broke the silence.

"Put your hands up and turn around, slowly," he said brusquely. Jack would be visually searching the room for Sydney even as he stayed by the door. Irina did not comply. "If you do not I will shoot you; that would be unfortunate for both of us, I would not get the answers I need and you would be dead."

Well when he put it like that.

* * *

Yelena knew something was amiss when Sydney's unpleasant bodyguard produced a gun. For a minute she deluded herself into thinking it was for her protection, she knew that was not the case when he aimed it at her. 

"Your boss did not give you any new orders, did he?" she queried as her gut did a good impression of a twirling roller coaster.

"Nyet. But if he knew what I did I am certain he would give me the order to put you out of your misery," he hawked and spat and looked very proud of himself.

Yelena appeared interested. "And what do you know?"

"That you are nosey. That you try to find out things that you have no business knowing," the bodyguard cocked the gun. Behind them shots were fired and shouts were heard.

"Your bosses will not be glad if Sydney is killed," she berated.

He smirked and appeared nonchalant. "I have heard she is capable of looking after herself.

* * *

Behind his wary brown eyes Irina saw worry and fury combined; the latter aimed at her, he though she had a hand in all of this. Her hands were now raised; she posed no visible threat for the moment. If she just had an opening she could take it and disarm him. 

"I am going to ask you some questions, you will answer them truthfully," Jack directed. He watched her closely, even in the dark he could see that she had a presence; there was a stubborn air about her, a defiance behind all that make-up and big hair. "Who are you?"

There was a pause before the answer. Thinking of a lie? "My name is Nancy Adshead, I work in Rome as an entertainer."

"I thought you would say that. Your car is a rental and is under that name, a name that does not exist in Rome," he sounded disappointed, as though he thought she could come up with something better than that.

Irina feigned frustration with him. "Never heard of having a stage name before?"

"I don't suppose it would come as much of a shock if I said I didn't believe a word of what you're saying?" his eyes became harder, his face cold. "Where is Sydney Bristow?" he demanded.

* * *

"You should not have snooped, Yelena," the bodyguard tutted, terribly displeased. "Is betrayal a trait that runs in your family?" he did not wait for a response. "Your sister was killed for crossing over, for loving her American family more than he country. And now you could just not trust her Agency either. They gave you a niece to look after, sent her to nice school but you…" he punctuated that by pointing at her with the forefinger of his unarmed hand ,"you had to investigate!" he said. "But you were not as careful as your sister." 

Yelena's face darkened. "Obviously Irina was not careful enough or she would be alive."

He did not look too concerned; his answer made that plain. "No matter, you will soon join her."

A shot rang out.

* * *

This time Irina's response was one of complete honesty but she doubted he would believe her. Despite his cool façade, the calm countenance and authorative air he would be desperate to find Sydney. As she was, really. "I don't know where she is." 

"And why are you in here?" there was still an utter lack of trust, the gun that was still aimed at her head was evidence of that.

"I saw a kid earlier. When all hell broke loose down there I wanted to make sure she was okay; but the room was empty when I got here," she told him, still in character. It was rather plausible and he was prone to believe her but for the slight bulge of a gun in her jacket pocket.

* * *

The sight of a smoking gun was not the most unusual sight for her to see, but Yelena stood open mouthed when she the shooter; just a little girl of 7 years old. She was partially hidden in the dark, behind one of the hedges that extended beyond the garden. The moonlight reflected off the silver butterfly studs that she wore. Sydney looked pale to Yelena as she came forward and took the gun from her niece. 

"Did I kill him?" the child looked aghast and gulped as she looked past her aunt to stare at the fallen man. Sydney thought back to her lessons, what her teacher; the psychologist had said. _It is necessary for you all to learn to compartmentalize, for those of you that do not know, compartmentalize means…_

"Sydney…" Yelena said, speaking softly so as not to spook her. She took the gun and followed Sydney's gaze to see the slow rise and fall of the injured bodyguards chest. "His is alive," she noted the relief in the young girls face.

"He…he was going to kill you," Sydney whispered. She had done what she had been taught, to protect, but this was quite different from lessons. "I got scared when the bad men broke into the house, I…I saw a woman come for me so I sneaked out into the corridor and got away. No one saw me," she hastily added.

In the distance Yelena heard Russian voices, the rest of the team were coming. "You did well to come to me," she assured her young charge. She turned Sydney around to face the incoming men instead of the injured bodyguard. As they began to walk away Yelena halted and fired a single shot. Now there was one last person to worry about.

* * *

Jack did not notice the tiny red dot that illuminated a small spot of his shoulder; he was too busy concentrating on the woman before him. Irina saw it. If she was ever looking for a distraction, this was it. "You're being targeted," she stated. "There is a sniper aiming at your right shoulder, that could change." Jack glanced across ever so quickly to where she indicated. 

Well look at that, she was finally telling the truth.

She took the moment to knock the gun out of his hand, but his grasp on the weapon was firmer than she thought and she only succeeded in catching him off balance. Irina backhanded him across the face, he came back at her, swinging his armed hand towards her head. She sidestepped and instead Jack caught her across the neck. That was going to bruise. She kicked out to the side, her heeled boot slammed into his midsection to temporarily wind him; the bulletproof vest he wore absorbed most of the impact and he recovered faster than she anticipated.

He fired in her direction, the shots would undoubtedly alert the other agents. Irina dived out of the way and overturned a table, felt tip pens scattered onto the carpeted floor.

She produced her own gun, the one she had taken from the man who had opened the frontdoor. She took aim over the table and looked in the mirror opposite her to get a decent view of the area where Jack was. Somebody else fired before she had a chance to and Jack went down.

**LOS ANGELES**

When Jack eventually arrived back home, his shoulder bandaged and no longer in pain thanks to medication, Laura was sleeping, curled up in the centre of the bed, sheets twisted around her. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hand across her bare stomach until she stirred. She awoke, sleepy eyed and smiled lazily when she saw him.

"How long have you been back?" she reached across to the bedside table and switched on the lamp.

"Not long," he answered and stifled a yawn. Planes were hardly good for sleeping on, especially with so much to think about on an already trouble mind. She eyed his bandaged shoulder that was just visible under his shirt, concern in her eyes, "it's nothing. Nothing to worry about," he said to ease any worry she might have.

She sat up and kneeled on the bed behind him, slipped the shirt off and threw it to floor. She rubbed her hands to warm them before setting them on his bare back, gently massaging the muscles. "I suppose it would be a stupid question to ask how your day way?"

There was no need to tell her about the attempt to find Sydney; it would only make things harder for her to know of another failed attempt. But this time was so close! "I don't want to talk about work," he told her gently, closing the matter.

She paused in her ministrations. "Jack…" Laura began, "there's something I need to tell you…"

The phone rang and, with a frustrated sigh, she answered it. It was the cell phone, "yes?"

_Don't even think about telling him anything._

They were listening.

* * *

**Translations**

Da - Yes.  
Zdes', tyotya - here, auntie.  
Ochen' dobry - very good.  
Spasiba - Thank you.  
Kharasho - OK.  
Babushka - Grandmother.  
Babuchka - Butterfly.


	8. Truth Hurts

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**LOS ANGELES**

Her hand tightened on the cell phone and her fingers turned white through the strength of the grip, Irina slipped out of the bed and, her back facing her husband so that he was unable to see her reaction. She left the room quickly and closed the door behind her as she retreated downstairs; needing time to gather her thoughts. Even as she moved away from the bedroom she could hear the door opening again as Jack followed her, obviously disturbed by her abrupt departure.

"_If you value the life of your daughter you will keep your cover, Derevko."_

For what felt like a very long time Irina did not say anything. She moved swiftly to the window to scan the road outside; where they watching? But finally she responded, "Where is she?"

There was a pause on the line; every second that was wasted felt like agony and for a few fleeting moments Irina thought whoever had called was not going to say anything else. She heard a chuckle, a slow and cruel sounding laugh. "I'm not talking about Sydney." Irina inhaled sharply, the words chilled her as the realisation hit of whom he was actually referring to. "I'm talking about Nadia, Derevko. It was so easy to take Sydney, how simple it would be to take a baby. So helpless..." and with those foreboding words the line was severed and she could hear the distorted voice no more.

A hand touched her shoulder gently and she jumped and spun around, her hand was poised to strike whoever dared to come near her. Her hand trembled as she lowered her arm; her relief was obvious. It was just Jack, and he looked so worried. Her reaction was disconcerting to say the least. He took the phone from her and put it down on the table by the wall, next to his laptop and a family photograph that had been taken three years before. "Are you all right?" she was quite obviously not and he pressed on with another question, "Who was on the phone?"

Coming back to her senses her mind worked quickly to come up with a plausible explanation. She forced a smile, it was reassuring, to put him at ease. "It was a colleague from the university. She was involved in an accident..." she lied easily.

"It must have been serious to shake you up so much," he rubbed her bare arms to generate some heat and pulled her forward into an embrace.

Her voice was muffled somewhat when she answered, with her head resting against his chest. "It doesn't look very good," she moved her head to look up at him properly. "I'm pretty tired," Laura told him as she pulled back.

Jack nodded, disconcerted by her attitude. It was strange and unnerving, he could have sworn she was lying or holding something back. Inside he simply let go of her to let her pass on her way back upstairs. As his loving wife brushed past him he caught sight of the bruise. "What happened to your neck," he enquired lightly.

Her hand came up to touch the mark. "A Frisbee," she gave by way of an excuse. "Some kids where playing, it ricocheted off my neck."

Laura turned away from him and as he watched her make her way upstairs he rubbed his bandage lightly. A chilling thought intruded on his mind but he pointedly ignored it, refusing to entertain it for even a second. His wife had never even been to Rome before, and she was certainly never in the villa that had, for a few hours, contained their daughter.

"The man in the picture is Mr. Gary Charles," Sloane announced as he handed Jack and Richardson a thin file each. They were promptly flipped open to the first page and both agents glanced down at the image in front of the Russian agent in front of them. "At least that is the name is goes by in this country; Mr. Charles in an alias, his real name is Gavrie Kandabarov. His is also recently deceased. I'm sure you've read the newspaper recently or heard the report about a man found hanging from the pier," he paused for confirmation and received two nods.

"That was Kandabarov?" Jack questioned with interest.

"It was. He died from a single bullet to the head; official reports tell that it was a gang related killing. Unofficial reports confirm otherwise. Prior to his untimely, and unfortunate demise, he worked for the KGB," Arvin confirmed as he circled the briefing room table the other two men was sat at.

"Why unfortunate?" Richardson asked with some confusion, "I would have thought it would have been better for us, Kandabarov being dead. One less Russian for us to worry about."

"Because, agent Richardson, with Gavrie Kandabarov being dead we can never find out why he was in this country in the first place," Sloane answered in the manner of a teacher to a slightly clueless student. "As far as I have been able to determine he had been in and out of the United States for the last 3 years, it may be more; I don't know. During his time here he frequented numerous low class bars and was an avid gambler. That's how he was brought to my attention in the first place; due to his many gambling debts he was wanted in many circles."

"You're thinking that's why he was killed? Because he owed the wrong person money and was unable to pay it back?" Jack ventured a guess.

"That's what I want you to find out. Have either of you ever come across a gentleman named Jimmy Carlton?"

Richardson nodded and rolled his eyes in disdain. "An idiot with a lot of information."

Sloane let show a cool smile. "This idiot is the man I want the both of you to see, he had ties to our Russian agent. Find out what he knows," and with those instructions the briefing was over.

Richardson stood and made for the door, he hung around to wait for Jack until Sloane waved him on. "I need to speak to agent Bristow." Taking that as his cue to leave, Richardson exited the briefing room. "You can't give up hope, Jack," Arvin said, remembering the dejected expression his old friend had been wearing. Not that he could blame he, if her were in Jack's position he would be going crazy.

"I know…I was so close," Jack shook his head. It was disheartening, all the near misses, but he couldn't give up, Jack wouldn't let himself. Not while the chance was still there that Sydney was Bsomewhere/B. "I should have gone in sooner, instead of waiting around…"

"No," Arvin responded. "I know you, I know how you work. You did everything you could."

Well, it was good to have that vote of confidence. If only he hadn't stopped to speak to that damn woman.

_Irina watched helplessly as Jack went down, his hand immediately flying up to clutch the wound in his shoulder. Her relief at seeing the shot was not life threatening was instantaneous. Any second now CIA Agents would come rushing through the closed door, and she would be trapped, and as mush as she wanted to stay to make sure Jack would be okay she had to trust in the people he worked with. She had to go, now, before there was no time. She slipped passed her bleeding husband, kicking away his own gun in the process should he decide to be stubborn and chase her. Which was a definite possibility._

Once out in the corridor she weighed up her options, and they were few and far between. Downstairs was out as the Russian and American agents were on the ground floor fighting it out. Looking to the left, at the end of the corridor she spotted an open window, a tree stood grandly outside. And then she knew how Sydney had gotten out of the house. The 7 year old must have climbed out onto the tree, as she had done back home on numerous occasions, her daughter was certainly resourceful.

Jack shook himself out of his reverie. "Next time," he said optimistically. "It'll work out next time."

* * *

A cloud of dust was left in the wake of the car that was being driven along the dirt and sandy road, miles from any sign of civilisation. The area was completely deserted, a gun could be fired and nobody would be the wiser. But it was better not to think along those lines, especially when being shot was a possible outcome of what 'Laura' was about to do. Whatever did happen an identity was about to disappear, Irina would prefer that the person behind Laura's conception, herself, come out of this unscathed. The phone call she had received the previous night had ordered her to remain silent, to preserve her cover. The threat should have served to scare her away from the idea of telling her husband the truth, and it had scared her, but it had also compelled her to do the opposite. She knew that Jack was searching for their daughter, as she was, but together they could do so much more; if they pooled their resources this kidnap nightmare could be over. And she could not, would not, allow Nadia to be put in danger.

Jack had no idea that their baby's life had been threatened; he deserved to know what was going on. Otherwise, if the terrible thought, that Nadia too would be kidnapped, happened then he would never know the real reason why, would never discover who exactly was behind it. She was afraid it would destroy him.

The black sedan came closer and the reality of what she was about to do hit her again. She felt so nervous, that dread feeling a person can get before some big, important event that may impact the rest of their life. Irina leant against her own car for added support. On the drive over to the place where she was currently waiting she had, numerous times, doubted what she was about to do. It was only natural. But rational thought had intervened to strengthen her resolve and she had carried on. Irina never ran from anything and she was not about to do so now. She could not honestly admit to herself that if she would not regret it for the rest of her life should she decide to flee. There was too much at stake.

Jack had been on his way out of the office when she called him 'Laura' sensed she was calling him at the wrong time; but this was no the type of thing that could wait. She had had to make the call whilst what she was about to say was fresh and sorted properly in her mind. Laura had told him quite simply, "be home early; the Johnson's are coming to dinner."

To anybody that overheard it sounded completely innocuous. But it wasn't. It meant that something was wrong and they had to meet. It was a variation of a code that Jack had given in case something bad happened to him and he wanted Laura to know. He never thought his wife would ever use it. There was a ore determined spot where they would meet and it was here that Irian was waiting. A dozen possibilities had flashed through Jack's mind when he heard Laura say those words; none were good. He had pushed aside the panic in favour of remaining calm and collected, and drove quickly to the meeting place. He couldn't describe his relief on seeing Laura in the distance, waiting for him and apparently all right. As Jack came closer still he saw that Laura was alone. When he was near enough he stopped the car and exited. Laura paused mid-step to face him, her obvious nervousness was unsettling and that in turn put him on edge.

Immediately realising what Jack was thinking she sought to reassure him. "She's fine, Emily is looking after her." She was glad to see him relax, it made her feel better as well, in the knowledge that if he remained laid back he would not jump down her throat later. He opened his mouth to question her again; which was understandable, but she motioned him to stay silent, and took a hesitant step forward. Her attitude was confusing him, so at odds it was to how she normally acted. Luckily he was, in general, a patient man. As if suddenly hardening 'Laura' look him in the eye resolutely and spoke. "Please don't...don't say anything until I'm finished with what I have to say. I need for you to listen to me carefully --."

"Laura --," he began, worry in his voice as he spoke her name; her alias.

She shook her head. "Please don't speak," she all but pleaded. Irina knew that this conversation, there in that secret place, would be the last that they would have as a normal and happy family. All the implicit trust -- it would be gone. And as much as she wished things could stay the same; she couldn't let it, but every time Jack addressed her with warmth and concern, it made her want to change her mind again. For her to do this he had to be quiet. To her relief -- and sadness, he complied and held back whatever he had planned on saying.

"10 years ago my name was not Laura Bristow..." well that was obvious, as she only became Laura Bristow after they married. Already on his train of thought, Irina pushed on. "My name was never Laura, I was never an American citizen, I'm not an only child, my parents are still alive. At least they were -- now I don't know, it's been so long since I've seen them. Jack..." she looked at him again. She was losing him, or at least he was refusing to believe what she was trying to get across. "My true identity is quite different from what you know. My name is Irina Derevko, until 1 year ago I was an agent for the KGB."

Jack stared back at her, uncomprehending. As Laura...Irina...held out her hand to him he moved back a step and turned away, mentally stumbling with the information he had been given. He cast a sidelong glance at her to find his 'wife' watching him, analysing his response. His mouth was suddenly dry and denial hit him; this could not be happening. He was a damn good agent; he would know if he had been lied to, especially when it was a lie of this magnitude. Bile rose to his throat.

"My mission --."

Jack held out his hand as a signal for her to be quiet. He could not hear anymore of this, "No," he managed to get out.

But Irina needed to carry on, as much as it would hurt, he had to hear everything. She started again but with more force, "my mission was to seduce a CIA agent and gather information on Project Christmas, and anything else that may prove useful to my agency.."

"**Your** agency," Jack repeated; the words were spat out in distaste. He had never felt more stupid, he hated to be made a fool of.

"You were picked...chosen for me from a select group of agents," Irina explained gently.

"You said you were an agent until 1 year ago...Why then?" Jack questioned, talking lead of the conversation. His disposition had rapidly altered as he spoke -- an agent to the enemy; a KGB agent bearing the face of the woman he loved. This Irina was not his wife; she was the creator of a woman that never existed. She did not have a chance to explain, the calculation was not hard to make and Jack was an intelligent man. "Sydney..." he whispered. "You knew all along," his voice rose in anger. "It was the KGB, wasn't it?" In 4 quick steps he was standing in front of her. "Where is she?" Jack demanded. He pushed Irina back against her car, as he seperated Laura and Irina in his mind, reminding himself that this was a stranger he now confronted. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Irina responded in all honesty as she tried to extricate herself from his grip.

He caught sight of the bruise on her neck. "A Frisbee?" he parroted her excuse bitterly. Jack leant in closer, "I've asked you this before; in Italy, and here I am asking you again. Where is she?"

"I don't know!" Of course he wouldn't believe her, why should he? She had just shattered one of the longest running lies. He had no reason to think she was telling the truth on this occasion. He pushed her harder against the car, barely allowing moving space. There was hardly enough room between them to slip a sheet of paper. Her wrist began to throb where he exerted force to pin her arms. "Jack, let go. You're hurting me."

He almost did, for a moment there was disgust at his actions. Until he remembered: This woman, this Irina, could handle it. She was a Russian agent, after all. He was hurting her? It was probably an excuse, another lie, to lead him into thinking she was safe enough for him to relinquish his hold. If he gave her that much, she would probably escape. "I'm sure you can take it," he responded with indifference. "Unless your only purpose is to prostitute yourself for information, and you were never trained sufficiently in other areas -- but then you did handle yourself in Rome."

His accusation rankled her and she answered angrily, refusing to take his taunting words. "I was given a job to do, don't tell me you've never had to do similar things to procure information for the CIA."

"I was never told to marry a mark or play happy families for 10 years!" he shouted, his obvious pain at her betrayal laced his tone; and through his anger she saw the hurt. Jack's mind was spinning out of control as he thought back on the past years with Laura; trying to recall moments when he may have doubted her actions or words, when things she had done may have aroused suspicion.

"I was not ordered to marry you," Irina answered forcefully. "That was my choice."

"Why?" he immediately pressed. It seemed almost that he was hopeful, that perhaps there was the possibility that not all of their time together was a farce, a mission.

"My love for you is not a lie," she told him softly. Whether he trusted in that was another matter.

Jack loosened his grip on her wrists and then removed his hands completely before walking away from her. He could not bare to set eyes on her again; it was too painful. "No...if that were true you would Bnever/B have continued this deceit for so long." Jack wanted so much to believe her, but how could he? He could never take anything she said at face value again, his trust in her had been destroyed with one sentence. He heard the gravel shift underfoot as she came forward. "Don't come near me," he instructed vehemently. He was almost afraid that if he gave her the opportunity to speak, to touch him, she would reel him in again. He had to keep her at arms length. He needed time to think.

"Jack, we have too --."

She was tenacious; he'd give her that. He realised that was also a characteristic of Laura's -- but he couldn't think like that now. "I'm warning you...stay away from me. You have just informed me that you are a Russian agent, that you have obtained classified information...I have killed people for less," he spoke slowly, carefully and with regret. "Please don't let me tell you again."

Irina stopped. There was desperation, she had to tell him everything, to try and get him to understand. But he just wouldn't listen. There was some hope in the fact that he had not mentioned turning her in to the CIA. "Okay," she acquiesced. But first she had to say one more thing; "if it had been possible I would already have used my resources to bring Sydney home. That was why I was in Italy -- she had finally been taken out of Russia and I saw a chance to get her back," Irina needed him to know that having Sydney had not been part of her mission, a way to stay with him or, as he had put it, play happy families.

Jack inclined his head just enough to see her shadow. "Sydney hasn't been in Russia for 11 months," he shook his head. "And apparently I've caught you in another lie." If he had turned just a little more he may have noticed her puzzled expression.

**SD-6**

An hour later Jack returned to SD-6; tired, confused, hurt, and a whole range of emotions he would rather disappear with his 'wife.' But Jack did not show any sign of what he was feeling, he stored them away as he had been trained to do. He had no idea that he would become gradually more adept at doing that until barely a shade of his former self existed. He was currently sat at his desk and staring blankly at the computer screen. He had been there for the last ten minutes as so far only one line of his report was typed out. Jack put his fingers over the keyboard once again as he focused on the present. That is until a figure loomed at the side of, he glanced up to see Arvin. His boss wore a grave expression which immediately set off alarm bells. _He knew!_

"Jack, we need to talk. In private," that said he strode back to his office.

Jack stood calmly and followed. The door closed behind him and he was quickly brought back to his youth, in a time when he was in trouble with his father; the atmosphere in this room was similar. "Is there a problem?"

"Take a seat," Sloane indicated the nearby empty chair.

Jack shook his head in polite refusal. "I'm fine standing, thank you."

Up until now Arvin's back had been to him but now his friend turned around. "Please Jack, I think you might want to be seated for this."

With his heart hammering in his chest but facial expression remaining just curious, Jack sat down and made himself comfortable. "What is this about, Arvin?"

Sloane perched on the edge of his desk and for a few seconds said naught, as though he were trying to come up with the best way of telling him something of great importance. "I received word a short while ago -- there was an accident. Laura's car was involved in a crash...reports indicate she was killed," he explained gently. And then with apparent sincerity he added, "I'm sorry Jack." As a comforting gesture he laid his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'll give you some time alone."

Jack heard the door open and then close again; he was let alone in the office to think, and wonder what the heck he had done.


	9. Smoking Gun

**Introducing:**

Judi Dench as **Yeva Derevko **  
Claudia Black as **Yelena Derevko **  
Anna Maguire as **Young Nadia **

To see the "Different: The Beginning" background, the link to which is in my profile. It was created for me by Kjrsten, so big thank you is due.

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

**6 Years later**

**LOS ANGELES**

Dozens of children came charging into the playground with expressions of glee on their glowing faces, the thought of being without school for a long summery six weeks ensured they ran to freedom as fast as was possible. Lagging behind them, walking alongside one of the teachers came Nadia. She did not look happy and that made her stand out from the crowd; she was not pleased and it clearly showed on her face. The teacher took hold of her hand and in a fit of defiance she snatched it away and jumped down the two steps leading to the playground, across the hopscotch and snakes and ladders that had been painted onto the concrete, and onto the climbing frame. The teacher called her name but Nadia did not take a blind bit of notice, the haggard woman was visibly relieved when she caught sight of the youngsters father; and walked down the path towards the iron gates to meet him.

Jack straightened up, he had been leaning on the metal fence watching for his daughter, and spotting her only when the groups of other children dispersed. He knew straight away that she had been up to some form of mischief; it was the guilty, annoyed and slightly smirking expression of a kid that was frustrated at being caught out, glad that she had slipped the teachers grasp and just a little bit guilty that she had been up to trouble. He knew it well by now. The CIA double agent met the teacher half way and waited patiently for her to begin her tirade.

He cast a sidelong glance at his daughter, as she swung from the monkey bars, apparently oblivious to the conversation about her that was going on. Nadia, he knew, would never do anything seriously wrong, it was just good for her to unwind sometimes; do kids stuff.

"…And then she lied about it!" the exasperated teacher announced. "Mr. Bristow?" she said in the tone of a woman that knows when she does not have somebody's undivided attention and doesn't like it one bit.

Jack turned back to her, unfortunately he had been able to hear her ramblings despite appearing as though he had not caught a word; sometimes his training worked wonders in the real world. "Nadia does not lie," he stated sternly and narrowed his gaze at the woman.

The teacher was affronted that she was not believed. "She stole his paint set and wouldn't give it back, then when the little boy tried to take it she threw her milk glass at him; when I tried to take it from her she said her mother would be angry if I did that…"

Jack's full attention was now fixed on her. "What else did she say?"

Satisfied that he was now listening, she continued. "It's another subject that I wanted to speak with you about; another student, Miranda, came into school a few days ago and told the others about the near death experience her own mom had. She was in a car accident not long ago. Now Nadia has it in her head that Laura will come back from the dead, too," she explained, more concerned now that anything. "It isn't healthy."

"Nadia, let's go," Jack shouted across the playground. She let go of the monkey bars and landed square on her feet before obediently running to her dad, she took his hand in hers, swinging his arm to and fro. "I will talk to her," Jack replied before walking briskly back to the car, Nadia had to trot alongside to keep up. Getting the sense that her father was annoyed about something she remained quiet. It was 5 minutes later when they were on the road and a quarter of the way home that Jack began to speak. "Your teacher mentioned --."

"I didn't take the paint set!" she protested and folded her arms crossly.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Jack caught sight of Nadia in the rearview mirror. "I know you would never steal, Nadia, that isn't what I was going to talk about." Nadia slumped in her seat. "Why did you talk about your mother? You remember what we discussed?" he asked gently; more worried than mad.

"I remember…" she looked up at him out of wide and innocent brown eyes. "Mommy is a secret."

* * *

Stashed in the boot was the usual suitcase that Jack and Nadia took with them when they went away for a vacation, the only thing that changed in what they took was Jack's workload and Nadia's books; a few snacks could be found in the glove compartment as usual so that they would not have to make a pit stop in order to eat. Nadia knew the route by now and so, instead of being glued to the window to view the passing scenery she had her nose in a book. 

Darkness was falling by now and though she was growing tired, the little girl was determined to stay away. She was too old now to go to sleep at 7pm; or so she thought. Her head lolled forward as her eyelids began to droop. A speeding truck shot by, the horn blasting and jolted awake with a start.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart, I'll wake you when we arrive," Jack concentrated on the busy road ahead as he pulled off the freeway.

She suppressed a yawn and smiled dopily in her tired state. "I'm not tired," she lay her head back against the seat, "but maybe I'll take a nap." Nadia nodded off a few minutes later and fell into a deep and peaceful slumber; content that her father would protect her.

**MOSCOW, RUSSIA**

Sydney threw the towel she had been handed by her instructor, on the floor in frustration. Her brow was furrowed into a scowl; she was hot, tired, thirsty and sick to death of going through the same technique over and over again until it came as natural to her as walking. She was pushed harder than the other students, treated differently. Sydney had all but lost her American accent, or so she would have her superiors believe, but she still felt like an outcast, she was the foreigner, and the one that was top of her classes. There was jealously because of it but the 12 year old had grown accustomed to it, she was not like the others.

Now all she wanted to do was take a shower, eat and sleep; but her workout was not over. Sydney was perfectly happy with doing laps just not at this particular moment. Running helped to clear her head when her mind was a jumble of scattered and confusing thoughts, when she had one of her 'mind blanks' going to the track made her feel better, at ease, and not quite so alone. She had her aunt and grandmother but she longed for more. Sydney did not have a single memory of her American life that she could recall at will. Instead she relied on the journals she had started to keep since she was 6, and kept secreted away, but because she could not remember the things she had once written about it was like reading a memoir about somebody else, and the pre teen gained little satisfaction anymore.

Sydney yanked the bobble out of shoulder length brown hair and brushed out the ponytail with her hand. "I don't want to do anymore today," she announced and reached for the door.

Her instructor's hand on her shoulder stopped her from going any further and the stern expression she caught on his face when she noticed his reflection, told her she would not be let off so easily. She felt a flurry of dread. "I say when the session is over. As of this instance I am still your opponent and you do not turn your back on me," he told her angrily.

For a few seconds Sydney stood her ground; as she had been taught to do, before backing down. It would not do well for her to get on the wrong side of the man she had to go to for training in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat. "Sorry, I'm just tired."

"I have taken 10 session today and have 3 more until my day is over; I am not tired," it almost sounded as if he were bragging and she resisted the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes.

Instead of responding to his comment she moved back to the centre of the floor. "I'm ready to continue, now."

**VILLEFRANCHE, FRANCE**

For 6 years Yelena had searched for answers to the questions she had; it had proved to be difficult to gain a foothold in the criminal underworld but with the perseverance she had come to realise was a Derevko family trait, she had succeeded. Everywhere that Sydney went her aunt had accompanied her; she was not her legal guardian but close enough. Yelena had become 'friends' with a few of the agents that watched over the young girl most frequently, over time she had found bits of information from them that she had kept a closely guarded secret. It was vital that she did not blab, that the people she took into her confidence would not betray what she knew to the KGB; that would have meant certain death for herself. Yelena was not anxious to face down the barrel of a gun again, as she had done 6 years previously.

Yelena took care of Sydney but was not privy to the details of her involvement with the 'school'. She knew there was something wrong with that place but whatever did go on there was classified, she had been unable to find anything out from her niece; it was curious how sometimes it even seemed as if the young girl could not recall what she had done with her day.

On this day she was due to meet somebody that claimed to have information about Irina. Yelena had come to doubt that her sister had been killed all those years ago, and she felt a driving need to discover the truth of the matter. The person she was due to meet, a man called Stefan, had contacted her; he knew things about Irina that only family could know, he had convinced her that he may be able to help. Now she just had to wait for him to arrive. Sydney was at home with her grandmother; Yelena was content in the knowledge that she was safe.

* * *

An old woman of about 65 years opened her door to greet Jack and Nadia Bristow; years before she had babysat for Sydney, until her disappearance. Since then she had retired but would periodically agree to look after Nadia whilst her father was away on business. The aging woman respected Jack and he in turn trusted her to take care of his daughter. Nadia paused in the garden before running to the swing; Jack shouted for her to come into the house and she groaned In disappointment. 

"But daddy!" she protested.

Jack walked across the freshly mowed lawn. "Come inside," he surveyed the neighbourhood but his keen eyes were unable to detect anything wrong and he relaxed somewhat.

Nadia looked up at him out of pleading eyes. "But you're supposed to let me be a kid! You made a promise…" she kicked at the grass.

Jack wavered; he had promised that was true. Nadia could wrap him around her little finger. Like someone else he knew. "You stay in the garden, I will be 5 minutes."

Nadia jumped off the swing and flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you, daddy."

He returned to the house with a wry smile, before disappearing inside. Nadia pushed herself off, swinging higher and higher for the next 2 minutes; until a figure came into view from behind the Oak tree that grew at the right hand corner of the lawn. The 6 year old stopped her play immediately and ran towards her visitor. Nadia beamed and came forward for a hug, "I missed you, aunt Katya."

Katya crouched down to embrace her young niece before pulling back to get a good look at the child. "You have grown so much," she observed before glancing at the house. All was quiet. All was calm. Nobody had seen her approach. Perfect.

She had first made contact with young Nadia when she had joined a local nursery, she had simply watched her the first few times as the child ran around with the others of her age, in the playground. Gradually she had spoken to her, before the 'meetings' had progressed to full conversation. It was easy getting Nadia to trust her once she had produced a photo of her mother; Katya knew that at the very least Jack would have shown a picture of Irina to the curious child. And she was correct in that assumption. Jack Bristow still held valuable information; it was deemed to risky to introduce another agent to him, in similar fashion as Irina, so Katya had found out what she could through the daughter, until the young girl became too old to know better. Nadia was only too happy to please the aunt she had never been told about; and she felt very grown up being allowed to keep another secret.

Katya knew that her sister had not been killed with her American husband as Sydney had been informed; but she was shocked to hear that she had perished in a car accident a year later, it had come as a complete surprise – but there was still doubt in her mind as to whether it had really been just an accident, or even happened at all. Her sister was intelligent, it she wanted to disappear she would be able to do it with ease. Katya also knew that if her sister had loved her American family enough to betray her true country, she would not be able to keep away if she were still living.

Frustratingly Nadia would not, or could not, tell her anything in regard to her mother.

"Where did you go?" the youngest Bristow asked to bring Katya's attention back to her.

"I had business to attend to, little one, you know that I cannot come to see you all the time," Nadia nodded, sulking. "Where is your father going this time?"

"It was a place called…" she hesitated as she tried to remember what she had heard her dad say on the telephone; Nadia wanted the details to be exact, not wanting to disappoint her loving auntie. "It was called…Ville – Villefranche."

Katya smiled with satisfaction. "Very good," she praised. "I am very proud of you, Nadezhda. One day maybe you will come work for me."

The door to the house opened and Katya shifted back, and started walking in the opposite direction top Nadia, leaving her niece alone.

**VILLEFRANCHE, FRANCE**

Night had fallen a long time ago on the hilly island. The office where the land train could be boarded was now shut up and dark inside, the quaint little café and shop that sold a variety of knick-knacks for tourists and locals alike were closed too. Delicious looking cakes with intricate designs of black, milk and white chocolate, were on view behind the window of another shop; they were enough to make the mouth water, treats however would have to wait until later. Yelena tore herself away from the out of reach desserts to gaze out across the ocean, the moon reflected on top of the rippling waves, it looked serene and refreshing. The water rose up to douse the rocky outcrop on the edge of docks; next to which were the painted fishing boats that would bob up and down until morning when their owners would set sail for another hard days work.

It was so peaceful in the place, Yelena would have liked to check out the area but there was no time. The roads wound up and up, twisting around; the building of salmon and beige that were home to the residents were near to the top; and easier to reach by car or motorbike due to the steep incline that lead to them. She stepped away from the café onto the cobbled part of the street to scan the main, deserted road in front of her. It was a little bit eerie being here now; a few hours earlier it had been much busier, a cruise ship had been docked in the harbour and tourists had been wandering around trying their hardest to communicate with the locals in French. The small coffee shop situated further back along one of the steep and narrow streets had been full of people earlier; sitting outside and fanning themselves with napkins or the daily newspaper to stave off the stifling heat; the aroma of espresso and hot chocolate had lingered in the air.

It was cooler now but still warm; the most noticeable difference was, of course, the lack of activity. There was only Yelena, watching and waiting. Until the sound of footsteps on the uneven ground filtered towards her, seeming to echo all around. She shifted from left to right but was unable to see her contact; she fought back a rush of fear, it was of the uppermost importance that she remained completely calm.

A voice, deep, commanding and vaguely Italian sounding came from out of nowhere. "Do not turn around," he instructed. "Lucille I presume?"

Yelena nodded and then verbally confirmed the identity with an, "I am."

"Good. Now, we both have information the other would like, co-operate and perhaps we can both walk away with something of value," 'Lucille' was turned away from him and as such was unable to see her face. At any rate with her dark hair and clothes, she blended into the shadows, much as he did. "I want to know why you've been searching for information pertaining to Irina Derevko."

"I had heard she was killed; I want confirmation," Yelena honestly responded, without giving away too much.

"Why would you care?" Stefan pressed,

Yelena hesitated, resenting for a few seconds how this man was taking control of the conversation. But there was nothing she could do about that now. "I know her once; we were…we were friends."

Stefan flipped that information in his mind; Irina had never mentioned a friend named Lucille before. So what was this woman lying about exactly? The friend part of the name she had given? It did not really matter; he had no intention of giving 'Lucille' anything. He had discovered somebody was investigating Irina and sought to find out the who and the why; that had brought him here. He decided to push a little harder, "you're lying."

"I believe that you are too…Stefan," Yelena turned around full circle to see if she could spot her contact; he was very well hidden. She heard the click of a gun and after recovering from her initial surprise at the unexpected turn of events, drew her own weapon. "What do you think you are doing?" she hissed.

"I've seen you before…" the voice had changed now; low and dangerous, on the edge. "Rome…6 years ago…the villa," he recalled. His gun was trained on the woman and his finger on the trigger. "You were with a little girl."

Yelena nodded once. "Yes." She located the general direction in which she thought Stefan was; she was too vulnerable in this position. "What do you know about her?"

He ignored the question and countered with one of his own. "Where is she now?"

"Pfft, I am not going to tell you that. I do not even know who you are," she retorted, a little offended that this man thought she would tell him anything so valuable so easily.

"Then let me try another question…" jack stepped out of the shadows and pressed his gun to the woman's right temple. "Who are you, really?"

A shot was fired and Yelena crumpled to the floor. Another bullet whizzed through the still air and narrowly avoided Jack as it pierced a hole through the glass of the café, as he knelt to check 'Lucille's pulse. He had no choice but to retreat.

* * *

Yelena could feel her grasp on the conscious world fading. She was able to life her arm to place her hand over the gunshot wound in her stomach; the pain was intense and burning. The blood seeped through her fingers. She heard footsteps, someone was running towards her. Help! The newcomer hovered over her. Yelena's eyes flickered open, the moon lit up the other woman's face and for one absurd moment the thought came to her that it looked a little like a halo. She heard a groan and a tsk. 

"Moa bog, ty durak, Yelena.," the woman chided and crouched down alongside Yelena, she pushed aside the younger woman's firearm, and looked strangely disappointed.

Yelena blinked, disbelieving "Katya…" she breathed. "Pamagite…"

Katya sighed, deliberating. This would not be an easy decision.

* * *

**Translations**

Maya bog: My God.

Ty durak: You idiot.

Pamagite: Help.


	10. The Return

**Chapter 9**

* * *

**FRANCE**

The whirl and bleep of machinery roused Yelena; she awoke groggy and did not feel at all rested or rejuvenated after her impromptu sleep. Her eyelids felt heavy and they started to droop of their own accord seconds after they opened, and she fought stay awake, she lifted her hands to rub her temples. Out of the corner of her eyes her blurred vision caught sight of a needle piercing the skin of her hand, the tubing wound around and up; an IV line. She realised an oxygen mask was around her mouth, and yanked it off. Yelena was jolted to her senses fully as the memory of what had happened returned to her; Stefan…Katya…her sister has shot her! And then had seemingly saved her life. A complicated lady was Yeketerina Derevko.

She was unable to remember what had happened after she had asked Katya for help; unconsciousness had claimed her. Yelena had been afraid to die, not being ready for the end. She wondered if Irina had felt the same before her death. The sadness was washed aside by thoughts of her niece. Yelena had no way of knowing how long she had been in this hospital – in whichever country – therefore Sydney and her own mother would be wondering just where she was.

**RUSSIA**

_I Brown hair…like me._

_And brown eyes._

_Dimples?_

_Sisters or brothers? I don't think so._

_Pets? I think I had a fish._

_Where did they work? Something to do with airplanes. And…I don't know…teaching?_

_I liked the park._

_Name: Lauren or Lisa…L something._

_My dad…Began with a J or A._

_Surname? Something with a W._

_I remember Christmas!_

_I got a bike. It was blue._

_Can't forget my name: Sydney…a Derevko, like my mother._

_Did I like school? I remember an old lady with glasses. She was nice._

_We had a red car. And a black one._

_I think my mother liked books._

_A hotel…something wrong with the house. Smoke?_

_Why am I forgetting? I don't want to forget. I miss them so much and I don't even know their names anymore._

_Photos of my mother were taken down and my grandmother and aunt won't tell me anything. Secrets all the time!_

_Laura and Jacob! But Jacob doesn't sound quite right. I have to remember them!_

_Sydney Derevko – Still forgetful._

"Why am I in here?" there was fear in Sydney's voice as she watched with panic and suspicion the man that stood in front of her. It kind of felt like de ja vu; as if she had been in this position before. Maybe she had, it wasn't like she could trust her memory anymore.

Sydney was sat on a hard steel chair, it was very uncomfortable and she wriggled around trying to become more comfy. She heard the faint 'ding' of a bell and she found herself becoming still and quiet, "Your name," the man before her boomed, his voice echoing in the mostly empty room. "Is Natasha Espinosa…you lived in America with your mother and sister; Svetlana and Anna Espinosa until you were six. You returned to Russia. What is you name?"

There were parallels with her own life but something was still terribly wrong. It was lies; but he was confusing her. Memories were surfacing, but they weren't real. IWhat is my name? I can barely remember/I Her internal voice screamed out. "My name is…its Sydney. She looked up at the man; adamant as she replied with more surety. "My name is Sydney." He wheeled around and a resounding slap cut through the silence that came after her response. Instinctively Sydney jumped; he had slammed his flat palm against the glass of a two-way mirror. It could just as easily have been her; her heart thumped. "Why are you doing this?" she cried out in desperation; her need for answers making her insubordinate.

Her pleas were promptly ignored. The door slammed shut and she was left alone.

**2 HOURS LATER**

"What is your name?" the man was calm, pleasant and smiling. It struck her absently how unnatural it looked on him. "Who is your family?"

The words tumbled out automatically, as if they had been instilled into her until the answers were perfected. Programmed. Like a machine. "My name is Natasha Espinosa; I never knew my father. My half sister Anna and I moved to Russia when I was a little girl…" 'Natasha' smiled. "Can I go home now, please, Sir?"

He smiled with pride. "Of course. Very good, Miss Espinosa." It was all in a good days work.

**FRANCE**

Katya's figure blocked the doorway; she watched her sister with a critical eye. Yelena did not like to be judged; especially by someone she had not seen nor spoken to in quite a few years. She had determined that she was still in France – the Doctor that had spoken to her in French was a big tell sign. He had told her that she had been in the hospital for 2 days; she had not shown her concern nor voiced her immediate intent to get out of the hospital and quickly return to Russia; but maybe he was psychic because he had added something to the effect of:

"You will not be leaving for a few days, mademoiselle."

Yelena was hoping she had been delirious because she was certainly not planning on staying, however wonderful she would be treated in this place. Of course, first she had to get past the guard that had been posted at her room – who was suspiciously absent right about now; the Cheshire Cat smile on Katya's face gave her an idea of what had become of him. "You brought me here?" she ventured a guess.

Katya shrugged lazily and sauntered into the room. "No, that was not my doing," she answered and sat down on the side of the bed; she viewed the bleeding equipment; the tubes, IV, the spot where the bullet from her gun had ripped into Yelena's flesh. "I am sorry," it sounded sincere enough, but Katya had always been a masterful liar. Maybe that was also a Derevko family trait.

"Then why?" Yelena asked, she stared her down until, to her surprise, Katya broke eye contact and looked away.

"You were getting too close, questioning our government, their intentions…" she shook her head. "Do not cross them. This, "Katya laid her hand on the blanket that now covered the gunshot wound. "Was a warning. A painful reminder of what can happen. Stick to your day job," she advised before removing her hand and rising. She resumed her position of standing by the door and leant to the side, looking for all the world like she was supposed to be there and had not just knocked out the guard after luring him away and thrown him in a storage cupboard. Katya was interrogating her sister but continued the façade of an idly curious sibling that was just making polite conversation. "So what did you tell agent Bristow?"

A few seconds before the question had been posed Yelena had retrieved a carton of orange juice from the cupboard on her right side and, as she heard Katya she was taking a sip of the sweet liquid. It was fortunate because had she not been drinking, her mouth may have dropped open in surprise. As it was she only sputtered and masked her reaction with a cough.

Katya arched a slender brow and retorted with some measure of amusement. "Perhaps you should stick to water and leave the strong stuff for later," she stepped towards the bed once more and removed the carton from Yelena's grasp. "Now, what did you say to him?"

It was a simple conclusion to make – Katya was referring to the man she had spoken to in Ville France; the mysterious and insistent contact Yelena had known only as Stefan. The supposed Italian was actually Jack Bristow; a dead man. If he was actually alive and not the victim of a car crash 6 years ago, dare she hope Irina was alive too? She must have broken her cover as Laura to tell him the truth. Was that why Sydney had been taken? As punishment? Jack, she realised, must have been monitoring all channels in order to find people that may have information that could help him. No wonder Katya had shot her, she believed Yelena was about to turn over intel to the enemy.

"My patience had limits, Yelena."

Yelena reached out and took back her orange juice. She glared at her sister; it was not hard to feign anger. "I told him nothing; there was no time. You shot me."

Katya smiled and a flicker of relief passed across her face. "That is fortunate for you. Now…remember what I said," she leant down and kissed her sister on the cheek before straightening up and giving a backwards wave as she turned around to leave. "Cease your investigations." Only when the clicking sound of retreating heels could not be heard did Yelena allow herself to relax.

**UNDISCLOSED LOCATION**

The house was shielded by trees and only a little sunlight filtered down to shed light on the two-story timber home. It was surrounded by a high fence, upon which security cameras were mounted. Nobody could gain access to the compound without being noticed, and subsequently shot, if they were lucky. On this day it was quiet, the sound of gushing water from the stream behind the house, and animal life, could be heard. It was a serene spot, secluded, only to be found if somebody knew precisely where it was located. It was ideal.

The sound of a car engine broke the silence, a deer jumped across the road and bounded away into the trees; the car was steered towards the iron double gates, the camera surveiled the driver, who looked out of the window and stared pointedly at it. The gates creaked open; they were only used on occasions such as this. Once they were open wide enough to admit the car entrance, the vehicle passed through and the gates shut again. The road leading to the house was long and, doing 60mph, it took 3 minutes 47 seconds to reach the front door.

Jack almost felt a sense of foreboding as he neared the cottage, always did, and he doubted that would change anytime soon. His feelings did not show, his face was impassive, a smile only breaking his hard demeanor when he watched his daughter. BTheir/B daughter, but he need only remember that small detail a few times out of the year. It had been agreed upon, these visits, 6 years ago when he had helped her to escape the United States, when she had told him the terrible truth. Since then so much had changed, abd not all of that had to do with Irina, surprisingly. Some lies had been developed by Arvin Sloane.

Nadia touched his arm to get his waning attention and Jack returned to the here and now. "Daddy, we're here," she told him and then let herself out. Her small feet crunched the gravel underfoot as she jumped from car to ground. Jack exited, and took a cursory glance of the area. It had not changed that much; there were a few more flowers tracing the edge of the cottage, the hedges had been trimmed. Irina did not strike him as the gardening type. He took out the cases as Nadia ran to the door and knocked, announcing their arrival by shouting at the top of her voice. "We're back!" Her happiness was obvious.

The door was opened a few seconds later and Nadia disappeared inside. It had become a ritual; Irina and Nadia's ritual. The little girl would call to her mother, who would be waiting just inside the door. Nadia would then run inside and fling her small arms around Irina's neck; her mother would pick her up and carry her to her bedroom. A story would be read and Nadia, tired after the long journey, would fall asleep halfway through; blissfully unaware of her parents giving each other the silent treatment. In the morning Nadia would shout for her mother to finish the story and once that ritual was completed they would sit down to breakfast.

It sickened Jack that sometimes he watched the mother-daughter bonding with fondness; Irina was not part of the family, she was just a woman that had way with making his child happy. If she couldn't help him in his investigation then he would not even be here.

Half an hour passed before Irina emerged from Nadia's room, she closed the door and he heard her feet padding softly through the corridor to the kitchen where he waited. The fading sunlight shone through the window behind him, the warm light bathing Irina in a soft amber glow; almost ethereal, despite who she was and what she had done. Jack looked away and stood, by now he knew the layout of the kitchen and where everything was, and he moved to the oven to take out the dinner that was waiting for them. They did have to eat, after all. As he walked to and fro, gathering cutlery and dishing the food onto plates, the silence dragged on. It was stifling, uncomfortable; and what they were used to. Domestic bliss? Not likely.

"Nadia told me that when she grows older she will become an agent and find Sydney," Irina announced in the still kitchen.

They had made no secret of the fact that there was another daughter; there was a mutual agreement that should know of her big sisters existence. Nadia knew that Sydney was missing, that bad people had taken her that her mother had to stay hidden whilst she searched for her so that the 'bad people' did not know of the investigation. They explained it in simple terms so as not to frighten her and make sure that Nadia understood what the situation was. They let her know that she was safe and eventually Sydney would be too. Nadia accepted this and asked questions only when he curiosity struck.

"Did you put that idea into her head?"

Jack set down the knives and forks on the side counter. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I didn't," he snapped indignantly. He never wanted Nadia to become involved in that area of his or Irina's life. It was too dangerous. Nadia had a vague idea of what he did; he was a good guy. But she knew nothing of agents, spies or the CIA; that part was kept from her. It was work and Nadia was to be kept away from that.

"The idea had to have come from someone," Irina answered calmly. Maybe she was just jumping to conclusions. But after Sydney…they could never be too careful ever again.

Jack paled. He turned around slowly; his gaze lingered on the corridor leading to Nadia's room. "Nadia is watched nearly 24 hours a day for this reason; there is no way anybody --."

Irina interrupted quietly. "You believed that once before, Jack." Sometimes work and family did become one. "There is always a way, I am evidence of that, as are the people that took Sydney."

He slammed his palms flat on the breakfast table where Irina was seated; the vase in the centre jumped with the force, his wife didn't move, merely closed her eyes and shook her head. "Don't you dare talk about her."

It was always a touchy subject between them. It was because of the KGB, Irina's comrades, that Sydney was gone. Blame was incredibly easy to place. But, if Jack had not fallen for Irina's charms, Sydney would never have been born and thus would not have been kidnapped. Fate had dealt them a cruel blow.

"BWe/B never talk about her!" she responded with aggravation. "You search for answers and I search for answers and we plan; but we never talk about her! You treat Sydney like a damn mission," her eyes flashed angrily. Irina stood and leant forward on the table. "You are so afraid of remembering our daughter – you distance yourself --," Irina accused. Jack cut her off harshly, his hand swiping the air as if he were keeping back her words. The food was forgotten and growing cold as they argued. He stormed passed her but Irina followed him, undeterred. "I don't stay in this house waiting for your call like one of your contacts, and you will not treat me like some fool that can be ignored." There was so much anger between them, so much left unsaid; they were two volcanoes waiting to erupt and the picture they painted was not pretty.

Jack spun around; conscious of their sleeping daughter. He grabbed Irina by the arm and pulled her into the next room and closed the door behind them, with more force than he originally intended. "You really want to talk about Sydney?" the tone in which he now spoke almost made Irina reconsider the conversation topic. "I am afraid that she is dead," he began with a certain frankness that he had not used around her since their marriage. "That I may never see her again. That in Btheir/B hands…she will turn into Byou/B," he told her; his voice dripping with venom. "But one of the things that helps me better sleep at night is knowing that, whatever happens, it is all your fault."

He had gotten through to her; he saw it in her beautiful brown eyes. In how she swallowed, and didn't speak whilst she maintained her composure. He leaned away from her, and then heard her speak. Irina's voice was cool and distant, her words chosen with care, "And after all of that…you are still ashamed of yourself," she folded her arms, ran the forefinger of her right hand across her lips; she didn't wait for him to enquire as to what she meant. "For wanting me…after everything," Irina took three short steps to get closer to him; her hand reached out to trace the area beneath his eyes. "You face holds back so much Jack, but your eyes…"

He pulled away from her delicate touch and held her outstretched hand to push it away from him. "You don't know me anymore, Irina," Jack growled, with emphasis on her true name. But damn if she couldn't read him like a book.

She smiled. It was so frustrating and unnerving, he felt completely naked in front of her, as if she knew everything about him despite not seeing him for many months. It was a tact he had used before on others, it threw the recipient off balance and had not failed him yet, and here was Irina doing the same thing. "If that is what you need to tell yourself to feel better…" she shrugged and left the room.

And that was that, the end of the conversation. Only it wasn't because Jack did not want Irina to have the parting shot. It was a victory for her and he was not going to allow her that much. How had things shifted so fast? One minute they were sitting down together and the next minute he wanted to strangle her. And now…? Jack followed in Irina's footsteps, stopping her bedroom door from closing as she pushed it shut behind her. She turned around questioningly but he didn't respond. Need overrode logical thought, but then there had been no sense of normalcy between them for 6 years so perhaps this was to be expected, they only had each other a few days out of the year. The distance between them grew each time they met, if not physically or by mileage then emotionally. That was broken as Jack grabbed Irina, his hand moving around her waist and the other through her hair, pulling her towards him. Need and lust driving them onwards.

When they woke their clothes were strewn across the bed and floor, discarded hours before in their pursuit of each other. Irina's arm was lying across his bare chest, their legs criss crossed over each other. This would not become an emotional entanglement; it was… "Recreation, nothing more," Jack said aloud and pushed back the covers to leave her bed.

If the lie had caused her pain he did not notice, did not care to feel any guilt in regards to a traitor. His phone rang before either on of them could speak and he answered it curtly, "Yes?" few people called him by this number, there was no need for formalities.

The accented voice on the other end got straight to business. "The gunshot victim you told me to find…I found her."

Jack allowed a satisfied smile to grace his otherwise emotionless face. "Good, bring her in." He ended the call and turned back to the bed. "I may have fund a lead," and then he left the room.

A few seconds later Nadia called out. "Mommy, come finish the story!" and their little ritual continued whilst Jack made breakfast.

* * *


	11. Escape

**Chapter 10**

* * *

**FRANCE**

The doctor had issued instructions that Yelena was to be kept under observation. The police were coming the next day to ask her questions that she was unable to answer. The guard that had been posted outside of her room had disappeared; thankfully Katya had not returned. It was dark outside now and the hospital building was strangely quiet. The bleep of hospital machinery seem too loud and Yelena was acutely aware of every footstep that passed outside in the corridor as she stripped out of the hospital gown to change into her own clothes. She ran a finger gently over the stitches across her abdomen. It had been too close a call had it not been Katya that was out that night; the bullet would not have been a mere warning. She cursed her stupidity again, and pulled on her sweater. They had been stored in a plastic bag and put in the corner of her wardrobe, luckily the police were lax and had only retrieved the bullet, as yet, for evidence.

There was no time to wash out the dried blood on the clothing; the nurse would be coming by on her rounds in half an hour so time was not on her side. She switched off the lamp in her room, and it was plunged into darkness. Yelena opened the door a crack and peered outside. The elevators were three feet away, the stairs eight; she would take the latter. Yelena could not afford to be caught whilst waiting for the elevator. Another patient had been admitted earlier that day and was in the room four doors down from her; the nurse was probably there.

Yelena wrapped her arm around herself, all too conscious of her conspicuous appearance. If someone noticed the state of her clothes she would be hard pressed to explain. She ducked back into the room as voices travelled to her, accompanied momentarily by quick paced footsteps. She listened carefully, her ear against the brown door; she was quickly able to identify them as visitors and not personnel staff due to the nature of their conversation.

Though Yelena was concerned as to the welfare of the guard, she also had, strangely enough Katya to thank for how easy her escape would be. Had the guard still been keeping watch outside this would be far more difficult. As soon as the coast was clear Yelena slipped out, immediately she felt exposed being out in the open, and strode hurriedly to the stairs. Cameras were mounted on the stairwell and so she moved as nonchalantly as possible so as not to alert anyone watching with unusual behaviour. She was on floor 3. The door behind her opened as she reached the second slight of stairs and her heart leapt; without realising it Yelena quickened her pace. The person behind her moved faster, her breath caught, her wound ached. She gripped the black metal banister.

What if it was Katya? What if it was the KGB? Neither prospect was appealing. When had things gotten so bad that she was afraid of what her own sister would do? Whoever it was brushed passed her with a muttered, "Excusez-moi."

She stifled a relieved laugh with her hand. She had jumped to conclusions and almost panicked; it was just some harried visitor. The second Yelena regained her composure she continued her descent. Once on the ground floor she quickly found a back exit, not wanting to chance being stopped near reception. Cool, refreshing air hit her as she stepped outside and the young woman closed her eyes and leant against the wall. Now what? She would need more clothes and had money still, to buy things. She needed to contact home and find cover for the night.

A hand grabbed her and quickly covered her mouth with a gloved hand. Chloroform assaulted her senses and before Yelena could do anything she succumbed to its effects.

**RUSSIA**

Next to "Natasha", Anna slept peacefully. She however was not able to find sleep. She was cold and worried thought she did not know why. Her dreams had woken her and left her feeling confused. Tomorrow she had school and that made her feel better; it was familiar and she felt safe and secure there. For some reason this house did not feel like home, "Natasha" felt like a stranger, an outsider – which was ludicrous, naturally. Her mother loved her.

Her sister stirred in the bed next to her and woke. Anna shivered and wrapped her blankets around herself. "Natasha" was sat on the edge of the bed, her legs drawn up to her chest and arms around them, a pensive expression on her young face. "Is there something wrong?" Anna asked groggily.

"I am just thinking," "Natasha" drew back the curtains to look outside.

Anna had a look of suspicion, not that it mattered as Sydney was not facing her anyway. "You always think too much," she stood up on her own bed and jumped across to the next. She closed the curtains, "you are letting in the cold."

"Sorry," she murmured. After a brief pause Sydney turned around, settling an enquiring gaze on the older girl, "Do you remember America?"

Anna knelt down on the bed next to her and nodded as she flipped her long black hair behind her shoulders. "Of course. America was good; but Russia is better," the lie came easily. It had been drilled into her.

Sydney nodded and turned away, accepting the answer sadly. "Okay."

Anna filed this away.

**UNDISCLOSED LOCATION**

Jack tried desperately to ignore Irina's tirade as he strode to the front door. He had curtly informed her of the events in Ville Franche and the subsequent phone call, and then told her he was leaving to perform the interrogation himself once the mysterious woman was brought in. The difficulty in this plan was simple; Irina wanted direct involvement and Jack would not allow it. "The people I am working with would just as soon shoot you as speak to you," he told her dryly. Almost how he felt himself actually; he missed out the slight detail where he had told the group to never deal with his wife, under penalty of death should they disobey. They obeyed.

The night before might never have happened, Jack might never have whispered, "I love you," on the edge of slumber; Irina might never have heard him. Relations between the two were worse than ever.

Jack laid his hand on the door handle, there was a click but it would not open. He spoke through gritted teeth. "Unlock the door, Irina."

Believing it to be a stupid joke, the reason for it she could not fathom, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It isn't locked." She watched as he tried it again, it was definitely locked. A look of amusement appeared on her face as she realised who the culprit was.

Unfortunately Jack mistook her expression as secret admission of her guilt and his ire grew; he did not like to be made a fool out of. He blew out a breath and spoke as calmly as was possible. "I am not laughing."

Irina tutted and shrugged before turning to leave the entrance hall. "That is because you do not know how to have fun anymore, Jack," she retorted smoothly.

Determined to get to the bottom of her game, Jack followed on her heels. His patience was rapidly wearing thin; there was a time issue here and this infuriating woman insisted on keeping him here. Whatever did he do to deserve this? He decided something of a deal was in order, "I will set up a video link to enable you to watch the interrogation."

Irina paused outside the study, a satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "How considerate of you," she opened the door. "But I still cannot unlock the front door." The dumbfounded expression on his face was rather cute; he was still completely clueless. She walked inside and Jack followed after. In the corner of the room, head bent over a colouring pad was Nadia. In her hand was a yellow crayon and she scribbled intently, all her attention focused on the picture in front of her of an elephant holding a balloon. Irina crouched down next to her daughter and pointed at the book, "a yellow elephant? Very imaginative, sweetheart."

Nadia glanced away from her piece of artistry and beamed proudly. "He was playing in the sand," she explained in a matter of fact way.

"Really?" her mother responded. "Was he at the beach, then?" she asked indulgently.

The creative part of Nadia swiftly kicked in and she nodded before putting the crayon down and diving into conversation. "He was in the desert! But he was getting thirty and then the balloon came down, so the elephant, his name is Billy, grabbed a hold of it and he flew away!" she announced enthusiastically. She stood up and pulled on her father's arm. "Guess what happened next daddy?" She carried on speaking before he could reply. "He met a giraffe! And she was purple."

"A purple giraffe?" Jack parroted, deadpan.

Irina frowned. The story their daughter had concocted wasn't supposed to sound realistic. "Nadia…did the giraffe happen to steal any keys?"

Nadia's face flushed red and she turned her focus of attention to scuffing the red carpet. "Maybe."

Jack's face showed immediate surprise. He had thought it was Irina that had taken the keys. He knelt down to come to Nadia's eye level, "sweetie, daddy needs to go to work and I can't do that if I can't get out of the house."

Nadia turned to him pleadingly. "But I don't want you to go."

"It will only be for a day at the most," he told her in a placating tone. "And then I promise we can do whatever you want to do."

"Really?" her face lit up and Jack got the dreaded feeling that his creative child would concoct some very unusual plan for the family to amuse themselves. Did he really have to worry about something a 6 year old might come up with though? What was the worst that could happen?

Irina answered for him. "Anything you want," there was a note of mischief in her voice and Jack almost groaned out loud.

"You can't see my hiding place," she stated. "If you find out where it is it won't be secret anymore," she rocked on her toes with her hands behind her back and nodded towards the door whilst she waited for her parents to comply with her request. Knowing that if they stayed if could be hours before Nadia produced the keys, the two exited the room.

* * *

Eventually Jack had gotten out of the house, in order to make up for the time he had lost waiting for the keys, he drove fast and stayed to the back roads to avoid getting caught up in rush hour traffic. A plan had been waiting for him at the airstrip, the pilot and co-pilot had been about ready to leave; so tired were they of waiting. Jack berated them for their impatience and they promptly shut up and got the plane in the air. The flight had taken 8 hours; he had tried to sleep on the plane but was unable to do so. Damn dreams. Well that was not entirely true; they had been memories, not dreams. He relaxed himself, his mind needed to be on what he was about to do and not Irina and Nadia. Personal and business; the two were becoming more intertwined every day.

Soon, but not soon enough, he arrived at the facility where the interrogation would take place. It was an old mental institution that had been left derelict for the past 6 or 7 years; much of the building was burnt, a fire had been set 6 months earlier by bored youths. Luckily the asylum had not been in use at the time. He parked his car in front of the wrought iron, black metal gates, which were unlocked, and ducked underneath the barrier behind it. Straight ahead there was a short road, which led up to the back doors of the red brick building. Even in the sunlight it gave off an eerie presence. To the left was the huge clock tower; it rose over the rest of the facility, being the highest point. The time was wrong, was not even ticking anymore. He wondered absently what had been happening at the time it had stopped.

He walked up the concrete ramp before the doors, and underneath the burnet out remains of the terrace. Sun glinted through the side, creating patterns on the floor, lighting up the rubble and cinders, a rusted saw lay in the corner, the haft of an axe in the other. The right hand side of the terrace had been boarded up, stopped access to the building from that side. To the left was a heavy metal door, probably a fire exit at one time, a long iron pole was pushed up against it. Jack looked straight ahead. Everything was blackened and as he set his hand against the wall to steady himself as he climbed over burnt wood, stones and other junk, soot came off to blacken his palm and fingers.

Eventually he came to the back area, perhaps it had been a garden at one time; patients may have sat out here, supervised, in the sunlight. Now it was perfectly quiet but nowhere near serene. A breeze blew, chilling him. Apparently the place was haunted but Jack paid no mind to takes such as those, this was a disused building and nothing more. There was a winding path, becoming overgrown with hanging trees, that led to a much smaller building that was set away from the rest. Most of the windows had been broken; by youths, tramps and drug addicts at night. A knee high wall had been erected around the door, he stepped onto the wooden platform beside that to navigate his way passed the broken chair, half bricks, twigs and glass, before pushing open the door to enter the building. It was in this section that the criminally insane had been housed. All across the dirty floor was glass and leaves; acorns that had been flung inside, to the left a door had been pulled off its hinges and flung to the ground.

Jack walked through the door on his right, the glass had been shattered in between and there was no reason to open it. The area was dark, gloomy and foreboding. He climbed the concrete stairs to get to the next floor. He could hear the woman's demands as he came to a stop beside what had once been a tiny bathroom, the toilet itself was smashed and porcelain littered the miniscule room.

The room she was in was of a fair size; perhaps at one time it had actually maintained a pleasant atmosphere. Now though that was not the case by any stretch of the imagination. Planks of burnt wood lay on the floor by the door, straight ahead was a smashed window, a recurring feature in this place, the floor itself was littered with absolute crap, also something that Yelena was seeing a lot of here. A beside table lay on its side in front of a door-less wardrobe that was blackened with soot. Plastic hangers hung from the top, but they hung down at the side where fire had melted them and they had hardened again in mid drip. To the side lay a dirty mattress. Yelena was tied to a chair next to this, and beside the person that guarded her; the room was void of anything else.

They had not spoken to her, though she had questioned them time and again. They remained resolutely silent. She had been given water to drink and toast to eat, but that was all and now she was starving, her butt was numb through sitting down for so long, she felt dirty due to the state of her surroundings, and figured she probably looked almost as bad. Short of being scared of the situation she was in, she was angry. Yelena did not get angry very often and when she did it was good for everybody else to be somewhere other than around her. These men did not know that.

She rotated her wrists in the ropes, they had been painstakingly growing looser the more she worked at them, not fast enough for her liking but beggars could not be choosers. Her head lolled back, her eyes closed and she groaned as if in agony. Startled out of their statue state the guards turned their attention to her; their necks were on the line, if something happened to this woman whilst she was in their care Jack Bristow would not be pleased. The threat of death hanging over their heads prompted them to act. "Hurts…" she whispered. She slipped her wrists out of the rope.

"What hurts?" the younger of the two inspected her closely.

Yelena swung her arm around, clocking him in the jaw. The unexpected attack sent off balance, he put out his arms to stop the downward momentum but hit the overturned bedside table and stumbled backwards, jarring his elbow. She rose quickly and grabbed the chair she had been sat on for hours and held it in front of her to stop the remaining guard from advancing. He put up his arms as if to surrender, but knowing it was probably a ploy she drove the chair forward, squeezing him between the chair legs and driving him back against the wall.

"Sit down," the order came from her left, by the door. It was a voice she recognised; Stefan from Ville Franche – but not Stefan if Katya was to be believed. It was a relief to know it was he that had her prisoner and not the KGB or other organization. Yelena did as he directed and turned around to face him. "I am very happy to finally meet you again."

Her comment threw him momentarily. Prisoners did not usually respond to him so pleasantly, particularly after attempting escape. Before he could answer the elder of the two guards, free to move around now the chair was no longer pinning him back, grabbed Yelena from behind; his arm around her neck. He was very angry, seemingly now the need for retaliation was more important that Jack. The guard spat at her venomously, his green eyes narrowed. "I will kill you for that!"

Jack stepped forward, his commanding voice cutting through the guards' threats. "Jason, it is in your best interests to let the prisoner go."

Two sets of eyes met his, one nervous and one not. The guard hesitated. "She would have killed me."

"As would I in her position," Jack responded. "As it is you almost let her escape, had I not arrived when I did it would be you with the threat of death hanging over them."

The guard thought about this before venturing to ask. "When you have your questions; the b is mine." He pushed Yelena forward forcibly and stalked passed her from the room.

Of course Jack had no intention of handing the prisoner over to the vengeful Jason, not whilst she still had her uses, he merely shrugged noncommittally before closing the door behind him; leaving Jack and Yelena alone. "Now I can ask you politely or I can make you answer my questions, either way you will tell me what I want to know."

Yelena nodded. "I have no intention of keeping quiet, Jack Bristow," she hid her delight at seeing the flash of shock that came across him at his true identity being revealed. "Since we last spoke some things have become much clearer for me," she smiled. "Perhaps I should explain." She extended a hand for her brother-in-law to shake, "my true name is Yelena Derevko. Your wife is my sister."

* * *

"Could you repeat that?" to say Irina was astonished was an understatement. Not one to be shocked very often, it was a rare occasion that she expressed true surprise. And this was definitely a surprise.

"The woman I met in Ville Franche appears to be your sister," Jack repeated patiently. He was still coming to terms with this revelation himself. The sister in question was currently sat behind him, once again in the chair but this time not tied up and free to move around. "A vid link is being set up as we speak, you can see for yourself."

Another 10 minutes later and Irina was staring at her sister across the screen. Tears of amazement sprung to Yelena's eyes and she touched the screen, disbelief written all over her face at seeing Irina alive and apparently well. "I thought…" she swallowed and breathed deeply. "I thought you were dead. We were told you have died in a car crash 6 years ago," Yelena closed her eyes and wiped away the tears. "I know where you daughter is, Irina. I can take you to Sydney."

There was a sharp intake of breath from both Jack and Irina, Yelena had refused to disclose everything she knew after discovering her sister was truly still alive, she had wanted to speak with Irina first. Seeing as Jack needed Irina to verify Yelena's identity, he had agreed to this. "Oh my God," Irina whispered. An array of emotions coursed through her, and seeing Jack's expression she knew he was feeling the exact same things. Their search was about to come to an end. Jubilation, happiness, triumph, excitement, anticipation… Yelena knew where Sydney was! "Where is she?"

"She is with our mother."

Irina covered her mouth and turned away from the screen for a few seconds, she ran her hands over her face. She was unable to hold back the smile that told of her absolute happiness. How could things be so perfect all of a sudden? And soon to get even better when Sydney was back in her arms. It had been 6 years, 6 long grueling years. And for this amazing conclusion.

* * *

The time difference being what it was, it had been decided that the call to Yeva Derevko, their mother, would wait until Jack and Yelena arrived at the cottage, by that time it would be almost morning in Russia. They had come this far they were not about to rush things, particularly seeing as both Irina and her sister would have trouble entering the Mother country. Yeva was old but a canny woman, she would be able to get Sydney out of Russia and to a safe enough location that the delighted parents could pick up her.

Nadia sensed the excitement and was bouncing with questions. Sydney coming home would be left as a surprise and so the little girl had not been told what was happening, she was dying to know what all the fuss was about. She was, despite her lack of knowledge of what was going on, swept up in the atmosphere. It had been a long trip and by the time the in-laws knocked on the door to the home away from home, they were exhausted and in need of sleep. It was a unanimous decision that all would stay awake until the phone call had been made.

It had been so many years since Irina and Yelena had seen each other in person, they embraced and didn't draw back for what seemed ten or more minutes. The reunion was cut short by the inquisitive Nadia, she was unused to seeing her mother react in such a way to strangers. Irina picked her youngest daughter up and introduced the two. Suddenly shy Nadia drew back from the smiling woman; she extended an arm hesitantly and shook her aunt's pinky finger. Yelena winked, and regarded her sister, "you have been busy, Irina."

"What does she mean, mommy?"

Behind them Jack coughed. He hung up his coat and held Nadia after Irina passed the questioning girl across to him. "Why don't we leave your mother and aunt to talk, hmm?" Before Nadia could protest the two exited the living room to leave the two sisters alone.

"Why don't we leave catch up stories until later," Yelena stated more than asked. "I know you can't wait to speak to Sydney," she said knowingly. She took Irina's hand and the two moved to the phone, "she is am amazing little girl."

Irina nodded, the proud feeling that roused tinged with sadness. "Not so little anymore --."

"Do not think in that way, it doesn't matter how many years you have been apart, you are still her mother. That bond will never be broken," Yelena comforted, anxious to shift the sudden air of melancholy. "You have the rest of your lives to remember these missing years." She picked up the phone and called long distance; the line was secure. 3 minutes passed and gradually a look of puzzlement steadily grew on Yelena's face. On seeing Irina's enquiring gaze she felt compelled to explain, "there is no answer." She moved the phone away from her ear to disconnect the call when a tired voice answered.

Irina was becoming more and more impatient; she wanted to speak to Sydney right now. What was so difficult about a damn phone call? An anguished cry came from Yelena and Irina's headshot up, her blood ran cold; something was wrong. Yelena was shaking her head. Irina yanked the phone out of her sister's hand but whoever had answered had now hung up, she took hold of Yelena by either shoulder, determined to get through to her. Not prone to hysterics, Yelena's reaction to the call was extremely disturbing. "What is it?"

Through a cry, Yelena answered; she took deep breaths. "It was Dmitri…" Irina assumed she was speaking of their neighbour, who had been a young boy when last she had set eyes on him. "There was an accident," the way she said the latter word immediately led Irina to suspect that that was not the correct word to use. Yelena sank into the couch, her head in her shaking hands. Irina crouched in front of her and held them tightly, lending the support her sister obviously needed. "Our M…mother is dead," tearful eyes looked up to settle on Irina. "Sydney is gone…nobody can find her."

Irina rose and stepped back, her composure was far more contained than Yelena's but the emotions she felt no less intense. They were so close, so close! She shook her head, refusing to believe what she was hearing. "No," she stated. "Dmitri is wrong."

The door behind them opened and Jack walked into the room; he closed the door again to keep the privacy. Evidently he had heard the commotion. Irina stopped two paces from him. The look on her suddenly pale face sent his stomach reeling. Yelena was crying, Irina appeared deeply shocked about something. Her demeanor propelled him to shorten the distance between them and he rested his hands on either of her arms, Jack looked at her searchingly. "Irina…what happened?"

Her answer once more sent his world cascading out of control and the hope he had foolishly allowed to build during the flight was crushed completely. This was de ja vu at it's cruelest, reliving that day six years ago. Sydney was missing again and this time there would be no shock admissions to help them find the truth. As on that most terrible night, Jack held his wife on this one.

* * *

**A/N: The asylum I described in this chapter does actually exist.**


	12. Hunted

**AN: **My apologies for not posting this sooner, I thought I'd already put this chapter up. But... better late than never.

Mockingbird84: Irina and Yelena were speaking Russian. Nadia doesn't speak Russian, at least yet, and Sydney does still speak English.

Thank you to everyone that's reviewed so far, I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

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* * *

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**Chapter 11**

* * *

**6 Years Later**

**1993**

**RUSSIA**

It was freezing cold; the soil was hard, slippery and crunchy underfoot. The trees hung over the stone pathway and they drooped low, icicles hung from the dead branches. The leaves were shriveled, the vivid green colours long gone and had been replaced with dull brown. All around, for miles and miles, there was nothing but trees, the occasional bush and nettles that stung at the running girls bare ankles. They itched like crazy but she could not stop to scratch because that would mean valuable time would be lost. Instead of concentrating on the soldiers chasing her, she focused on the cold, on overcoming the biting weather; she closed off her mind to everything else.

She was unable to determine how many miles she had run -- she wore no watch and so could not tell the time. The sun was hidden behind clouds so that did not help either. It was going to rain soon, that might be preferable actually because she was sweating. A downpour would make her feel cleaner; it would wash away the dirt and grime.

She knew also that it was the sweat that dried on her inadequately covered body that was making her freeze even more. Had she been at a higher altitude she would be close to death by now. She had not drank for what seemed an age, her lungs felt fit to burst, her heart pounded and she tried valiantly to ignore the stitch that grew in her side with each hurried step. He face was probably red with the exertion; her legs were starting to ache, as were her arms as she pumped them furiously as she ran. Her eyes were starting to water. The girl felt ready to drop, to collapse but instead of doing this she continued on.

She tightened her hands into fists, as if that would help her to continue onwards. She was used to running, loved to do so in fact. But this was something else; this was not a leisurely jog through the park or track. This was survival.

Her face was burning and red, she blew out another breath and watched as the little swirl of mist evaporated before her eyes. Her brown hair was tied back, strands stuck out at the sides -- not that looking good mattered here, in this desolate area. The runner slipped on a patch of black ice and went down, she remained silent so as not to give away her location with a surprised yelp. She landed on her knee, the skin had been scraped and started to bleed immediately. It was not bad though, she could carry on, didn't have much of a choice.

She pushed herself up from the ground and wiped her hands on the sides of her flannel pants. At first she had been glad for the thin material, she knew how warm one could get running in thick pants. Now she cursed them, they let the cold in far too much. She wore a vest, a thin cardigan over that. No wonder she was so cold. She slipped again but this time kept her balance, she pushed herself harder. Her face fixed in an expression of grim determination. Behind her she heard the sound of her pursuers. They shouted taunts. They had been driven this far and let out of their vehicle only a mile back. They were fresh in the chase. She had been at this for a very long time.

It had been early morning when it had all began; 4am to be exact. She had been driven to the outskirts of this place and let loose. Told to run and not stop. She had complied wordlessly, as was expected. Only halfway through, when it must have been about 10am, did she realise what was happening. A nondescript jeep had pulled up and a rifle fired in her direction. It had hit the ground; tufts of soil had flown into the air. She had swerved to avoid being shot and had sped up, her pace had stayed constant ever since. They must have been watching her from somewhere; surveillance cameras? A helicopter? That was possible, but she could not see beyond the treetops.

The runner came to a group of boulders and slowed down. She gauged how high they were and whether she could climb up, the rock was smooth with no hand or footholds. She heard a scratching sound and held her breath before ducking low. A shadow crossed her path and she peered upwards. Her mouth was dry. Her pulse was racing. Her whole body throbbed.

Somebody else was breathing. And they were very close.

She skirted around the boulders, there was a tiny gap that she decided she would be able to fit through. She glanced through the cracks and spotted a dark figure in black fatigues, he held his gun at the ready. She had no illusions about what would happen should he find her first. Her loose clothing scraped against the rock and she stilled her movements. He didn't turn around. She tiptoed towards him, his back was to her, and he had no clue she was behind him. A flicker of exhilaration shot through her along with a burst of adrenaline. She quick stepped forward and grabbed him around the neck, pulled his wrist to the side to make him drop his firearm. In this position he could not struggle.

His wrist snapped and his hissed in pain and surprise. His neck snapped to the side and she let him go before picking up his gun and securing it in the waistband of her pants.

She turned around and Sydney -- Natasha Espinosa slumped to the chilly floor as a tranquiliser dart hit her neck.

**ENGLAND**

It was wonderful to be out of the cottage. As nice as it was, it grew tedious looking at the same walls day in and day out. Not that Jack had any clue about her numerous excursions; he still thought she stayed at home and waited for him to contact her. It was strangely naive, a tag she would not normally place on the double agent. It was winter and, unsurprisingly, cold. She wore a thick grey duffel coat and warm black gloves. Her boots clicked on the wet concrete pavement with each precisely placed step. The clouds overheard blocked out the sun, it threatened to rain, for once the weather forecast might prove to be correct. In her hand she carried bags, had been shopping, this was both a vacation and a business trip. The latter had been concluded yesterday and this was her last day in London.

Irina was out of place in this area; the slums, the place where no sane person would walk of their own accord. She strode with purpose however, her head held high and with an air of sureness. She knew that she was being watched, she also knew that this place was relatively empty at this hour. A short while from now that would change and all manner of characters would come out to play. She would be gone by then, Irina never went or did anything without reason, and she was not here for a stroll. She was daring -- not insane.

The taxi driver that had dropped her off a half mile away had thought otherwise. He had driven off as fast as possible; evidently he knew the tales of this area. Drug addicts, dealers, gang wars; all shorts of people that were deemed uncivilised by the rest of society. It did not seem to enter everyone else's mind that some of those that lived here did so out of necessity and not choice. Which was precisely the reason she was here. Out of the corner of her eye she spied a flurry of activity.

The boy she tracked was quite adept at hiding. But not from her, his curiosity forced him to come a little closer each minute. He was bold, cocksure of himself but also uncertain, perhaps scared. He probably thought she was an undercover police officer. Every so often they came here to try and catch unsavoury folk in the act of illegal doings. This boy had not been caught so far; Irina had checked.

As she walked she allowed part of her mind to drift to the child back home. Not that Nadia liked to be considered a child anymore; at 12 years 4 months and 7 days, she liked to think herself extremely grown up. But Irina knew she was not as much of an angel as she would have her father believe. Nadia had not done anything wrong, her mother would not allow that. It was kids stuff, really, sneaking out after bedtime and the like. Jack would have a heart attack should he find out; so Irina did not tell him. He was no angel himself -- it appeared all the Bristow family had a bit of a wild streak in them. Nadia's would grow with age, as it had done her parents. She always had been a little rebellious. It was probably due to how strict Jack had become as she aged; particularly after loosing Sydney a second time.

There had been no more word on their eldest daughter -- she had disappeared off the face of the earth. It saddened Irina every time she though about it, but she realised with deepest regret that she probably would not even recognise Sydney now. And Sydney surely had forgotten them, for the most part. And Jack... Jack had become harder, more cold. He never got close anymore, even 6 years ago there had been times when that old spark, that flicker of passion had arisen in both of them. But now his carefully erected walls had grown so thick that nobody could penetrate them; not even Nadia. He was afraid of getting to know the older her in case she too disappeared. It was ridiculous, naturally, but for once logic did not govern his thought. He was protecting himself from more heartache. But Irina suspected he was also protecting Nadia; his job took him to so many dangerous places, his life had been threatened on numerous occasions. And Nadia could not mourn a father she did not know properly.

A bin toppled over and rolled in front of her. Irina set down the shopping bags and put it straight. "Come out, Julian," she spoke in a normal tone but he would hear her. He was very close. She knew his name because she had been checking up on him, ever since she had spotted him two days ago. He had been cheeky enough to try and steal from her, on the subway. But Irina had seen him first.

He probably thought she was here to turn him over for theft. An amusing thought, actually, after the things she had done, taking a bag was small fry. He stepped out tentatively from behind a broken, arched wooden door. He gripped the frame. His dirty face regarded her warily. What colour was his hair? He was a mucky pup, not that he could help it being in this dump. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Irina chuckled in delight, he was afraid yet he attempted to inject an air of authority into his voice. A voice that, she was surprised to note, was actually quite posh. "Would you like to leave here?"

"Are you crazy?" he questioned immediately. The 12 year old indicated the street in which they stood. "Does this look like a place I would want to stay in?" More certain of himself, he stepped out of the darkness. He didn't give her a chance to answer, though it was mostly rhetorical anyway. "Yes... I would like to leave here," his blue eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "Will you take me away?"

Irina crouched down and put her hand into one of the bags labelled Marks & Spencer, and withdrew a plastic packet of sandwiches; food, always an icebreaker when dealing with somebody as hungry as Julian probably was. He eyed the sandwich, his interest in her increased in a second. He licked his lips but remained controlled enough to stay put and not rush forward to grab the food. His stomach growled and his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. As if suddenly realising the messy state he was in, Julian rubbed his dirty hands on his trouser legs, the soil underneath his fingernails wouldn't go without water and that was in short supply here. The plumbing left a lot to be desired in this place. He scrubbed his sleeve across his face, streaking another stain.

"Come here," Irina, instructed; the packet rested on her lap.

He did as she bade, albeit with some residual hesitation. He was wary like a skittish animal, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. His gaze fell on the sandwiches again but still he held back as if worried that this prize would be taken from him should he put a foot wrong. He remained on his best behaviour. Irina produced a wipe from her pocket and held it out; Julian promptly took it and wiped it across his face.

"You should not eat in such a state," she told him.

The young lad nodded in understanding, he stared down at the now blackened wet cloth and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "May I have another?" he took the second one she gave out and proceeded to clean his hands until they looked satisfactory enough to eat with.

"Now I can see you properly." Julian practically glowed at her words of approval. She saw that he was growing more at ease in her company; that was good, she did not want him to be uncomfortable. I rina handed him the sandwiches and stood, asking as she did so, "would you like to eat somewhere else?"

Julian held the packet to him closely, were someone to try and take it from him now they would be in for a fight. "Yes please," as always he remained polite and eloquent in his speech. Had Irina not known any better she would have thought he was some middle class boy mucking around in the slums for one reason or another. Together they started walking back the way she had come previously. "Thank you," he said with obvious gratitude. Sark didn't look back once.

**RUSSIA**

Water was flung over "Natasha's" face and her eyes sprang open, showing her immediate shock. She was disconcerted and quickly tried to take stock of her surroundings. Shackles bound her to a metal chair that was bolted to the stone floor. They icy liquid dripped down her face, arms and neck; her cardigan was gone. The room itself was tiny at 6 by 6ft, and pitch black. She could hear somebody else in the room, more of a cage really, they breathed deeply. The hair rose on the base of her neck. T he other person circled her. She felt so groggy, her limbs ached terribly and felt heavy; after effects of the tranquiliser.

Something was being scraped across the wall, a knife. The sound stopped and the blade came to rest beside her neck. "What is your name?"

The question was simple but she could not answer truthfully, and this man probably knew that. "Who are you?" there was only the smallest of tremors in her voice, she was proud of herself for not betraying her terror but there was no time to dwell upon that.

"What is your name?"

This was rapidly going to become repetitive.

The knife pricked at her skin and automatically she tried to withdraw from that which might kill her should enough pressure be applied. The man asked the same question a third time but she pursed her lips. Her mind thought fast, falling back on the facts that were in her legend. It was something she had gone through numerous times; added upon and memorised until it was perfect and she could recite anything off it as though it were true and not a made-up life. Anna had done the same thing, but at the time of creation she had thought it to be just an exercise, a test to see how much she could absorb in a set amount of time. "Natasha" never thought she would have to put it to use. What if this was a test, too? Could she take that chance? Who was administering the test if that was what it was?

The man was speaking again and she tuned back into what he was saying. He had taken her left hand and was running the knife along her forefinger. "Ah, such long fingers. Are these manicured nails? So pretty," the soothing tone he used was extremely creepy in such surroundings. "You will answer my questions, I think..." he stopped the knife at the tip of her finger. "This little piggy went to market... " The knife shifted to the next finger, "this little piggy stayed at home..." he smiled; showing an array of yellowing teeth. "These do not grow back, princess."

She swallowed and closed her eyes. "I don't know anything," her voice sounded different, another accent, a measure of haughtiness was apparent.

The man tutted and carried on. Next finger; next verse, "This little piggy had roast beef... " He slipped the edge of the blade underneath her fingernail. "This little piggy had none... " He chortled. "Would you like to tell me the next verse?"

"Natasha" sucked in a breath. "I demand you tell me who you are and what I'm doing here."

He laughed, the noise echoed in the empty room. He shouted to somebody that must have been waiting outside, a guard maybe. "You hear this? She **demands**. The little princess demands!"

Amused laughter rang out from the hall and she quelled her irritation. Naturally they would not take her seriously.

"You killed one of my men in the forest," his tune altered. Now he was not finding anything funny, the opposite was true now; he was deeply annoyed. He grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers.

She shrugged as though that did not concern her. "I was taught Tae Kwan Do back home -- a girl needs to learn how to protect herself these days. It's dangerous," she added with a touch of irony.

"What is your name?"

They were back to that one again.

"Fine! My name is Missy Deverux -- please just let me go. I'm sorry if I was trespassing!" the man leaned in close with a look of disbelief.

"You are lying," he accused.

Well yes, of course she was. But did that mean she was going to give up and start to speak the truth? Not likely. "No…I swear. I was just going for a run, and then I got lost," she feigned babbling. Inside she was quivering with fear. She was still a teenager, almost nineteen; she didn't want to die. Still had so much to accomplish; secrets to discover.

"Yuri!" the man barked. He was tiring of the game and wanted to get results now. The girl was boring him, "prepare the bath."

In this place, that sounded far more ominous than what it would have done elsewhere. Straight away her mind conjured up images that she would have preferred stayed buried in the dark recesses of her active mind. She sincerely doubted this bath included smelling scents and bubble bath. She realised with dread that he was not going to believe anything she had to say, and on the off chance that he did -- he would still go ahead and torture her to see what other information he could illicit from her.

She was alone and could only rely on what she had been taught. She would say nothing of what she really knew, fall back on her legend and pray for rescue or a chance to escape.

* * *


	13. Debrief

**Chapter 12 **

* * *

**RUSSIA**

"Natasha" never did discover what the contents of the bath were – but thoughts of salt water seeping into fresh wounds, acid and electroshock treatment came to mind to scare her. Fear, fortunately, didn't come hand-in-hand with being frozen on the spot. In fact, the frightened teen had never gotten why the women in films waited for the oftentimes muscular man to swing in and save the day, or why they screamed and cried to the point of exhaustion. Such reactions only drew more attention and earned them a few harsh slaps across the face. "Natasha" did neither, and she knew deep down that no help was going to burst through the door to rescue her.

She was going to have to save herself.

When one of her captors came forward to release her from the uncomfortable chair, with the intent of moving her to another room, she feigned submission. In doing this she feverently hoped they would underestimate what she was capable of. That also meant biting her tongue so as not to say some flippant remark in response to a sarcastic comment.

The man sneered and called across to his vulgar buddy. "She is not so tough." He pulled her roughly out of the chair, not caring that "Natasha" was trying desperately to regain feeling in her frozen arms. There was no central heating in the crummy room.

Her reaction time was slower than she would have liked – and had any of her numerous instructors been there, they would have marked her down for being so slow. She clumsily cuffed the man around the ear, with a balled fist. The angle in which "Natasha" stood was awkward, but she was unable to step back due to the chair that blocked her way. In hindsight, biding her time may have proved to be more advantageous. Luckily she had startled the captor and that was one of the things "Natasha" had been aiming for.

She brought her right foot down on his knee and just about refrained from cringing when she heard a bone-jarring _crack_. The man bit his tongue to keep from crying out… Now he was very mad. Before he could take any steps toward subduing her, she swung her leg to connect with the back of his newest vulnerable spot – his knee. At the contact, his leg buckled and he toppled forward clutching the offending area in obvious agony. Natasha grabbed the gun from his holster and pulled him upright, her left arm slung around his neck. She forced him in front of her, to use the man as a human shield. The gun was aimed at his neck as the door swung open and his astonished friend stopped short of barging inside.

"Drop it," she commanded, upon seeing he too was armed – something that was hardly unexpected.

The cigarette the guard, Alexei, had been smoking slipped from his mouth to fall to the dusty floor. He pressed his heel against it to crush it out, and waved away the wisp of smoke. But he refrained from dropping the firearm.

He was so calm. Why? It hit her like a ton of bricks – there was no ammunition in the gun she held. Unless it was a bluff. On the off chance that it wasn't, "Natasha" eyed the room like she had done numerous times since being brought in. There was nothing else to use to her advantage; she had only herself. She had been told before that her body was a weapon. She pulled the trigger and was not surprised when she was greeted with nothing. She tossed the ineffectual gun to the ground. "I don't need a gun to kill," "Natasha stated grimly.

Alexei seemed to stand straighter all of a sudden, his weapon was returned to its holster. He withdrew a cap from his pocket and doffed it. His movements were précised and lack of threatening behaviour puzzling.

"Natasha" wracked her brains to come up with a reason why he had just made himself a target. A feeling of relief mixed with nausea caused her to become more than a little ill. She refrained from speaking however, and instead of allowing a perturbed expression to appear, maintained a neutral demeanour.

Her possible opponent appeared grim now, and his smirk disappeared faster than money around a thief. He scrutinised her for a few seconds, and it was impossible to determine was he was thinking. "As much as I would like to see what other tricks you have up your sleeve; we have run out of time," he stated with perfect calm. That said he came forward with his arm outstretched. "Colonel Alexei Dolov." He missed out the retired.

"Natasha" stayed where she was, finding it difficult not to suspect trickery. She tried to read his expression but he remained frustratingly impassive. Her jaw did drop a tiny bit though.

He allowed an amused chuckle to come through, and nodded his head appreciatively. "You remain suspicious, good. That is good." He pulled back his hand, not taking offense at her impoliteness. He produced a lighter and cigarette, the yellowing of his fingertips showing he smoked often. "You want?"

She shook her head mutely. On the floor, still in her grasp, the other man groaned. "Natasha" glanced at him, assessing the damages and looked away – she did a double take.

The Colonel laughed at her barely disguised horror, and waved his hand dismissively. "Do not worry about him Natasha; he is used to rough women." All that was missing from his tone was the suggestive waggling of the eyebrows.

The door behind him opened again, this time to reveal Anna.

She still suspected something was amiss, and with the arrival of her half sister, inspected her with a critical eye. "Natasha" was searching for any sign that she, too, had been kidnapped, and was being used to lull her into a false sense of security.

Anna, however, just smiled before taking the few steps needed to fully enter the room. She appeared to be at ease in the building, and was not afraid in the slightest. "All of this…" Anna indicated the room with a nod of her head. "Has been a test of your strength, skill and stamina --."

"A test?" "Natasha" answered with a touch of incredulousness. Alexei nodded, appearing proud. "But I killed that man…in the forest," her stomach plummeted. Not for the first time, she was glad she had eaten nothing recently, fairly certain she would have lost her lunch by now.

Sensing by her tone, that "Natasha" was feeling a great amount of guilt over her actions, the Colonel stepped in to ease it. "The man was a convict," he lied easily. "He was awaiting a death sentence for a double murder and will not be missed, or grieved," Alexei added pointedly.

Though still doubtful, a weight had just been lifted by the few words. "Natasha" relinquished her grip on the injured man and he slumped to the floor. She smiled weakly – masking her annoyance at having been duped so easily. "Did I pass?"

Alexei slung an arm around her shoulders in an almost fatherly way, to lead her out of the room. "Come, results are for later… now you must be cleaned up." "Natasha couldn't argue with that, she felt grimy and disgustingly dirty. A shower sounded like Heaven at that moment in time.

In an apparently disused room next door, two superiors quietly conversed. They planned her future, their intentions for her, and what would happen should she fail. "Natasha" was always being tested -- even by those she thought she was the closest to.

* * *

**UNDISCLOSED LOCATION**

_I'm starting to get the feeling my father doesn't like me. I remember when he used to push me on the swings, and I'd make him help me make cookies. They never turned out nice or even edible, but we used to do that together. But that was before, before I grew up. I think maybe he's like those people that like dogs when they're puppies but get rid of them when they get bigger… only he can't get rid of me so he tolerates me._

_He loves his work… I wish I could work with him and then maybe he'd take notice of me. He used to have a cool job, but now he works in importing or exporting stuff…I don't remember which… and it isn't that interesting anymore. Yesterday I stayed out really late, but he made me feel guilty about it when he mentioned Sydney. I don't even think he meant to bring her up, it just happened, I think he thought I'd disappeared like she did._

_So he paid attention to me for about an hour… and then told me to pack because he was sending me to my mother for the weekend. Only it's Tuesday now and he still isn't back. My mother… she's cool… told me not to worry, that he might've had to meet a client in another country. Last time he went to Paris but didn't bring anything back for me._

_He used to buy that fancy French chocolate when I was little, as a present, but now he forgets or just doesn't care. We never do anything anymore and I can't stand it. I like it here though… the house is surrounded by trees and there's a ton of wildlife. But now my mother has this other kid, he's only older than me by about a month or something. He has this cool English accent and he says words funny sometimes, but I'm scared she's replacing me because she doesn't see me often anymore. So if my dad doesn't like me, and my mom doesn't want me, who does? _

_I have an aunt, she's got a funny accent too, only she isn't English, her names Yelena… but she helps my dad and I hardly ever see her. I wish I did, she'd understand I think._

_Nadia, aged 12 and a half (13 in 4 months!)

* * *

_

**RUSSIA**

A radiator was set to the highest notch in Colonel Dolov's office. The warmth seemed to seep into "Natasha's" icy skin. She would warm up soon enough, but for now she tried to generate some heat by rubbing her hands together. She had showered, but as she had no change of clothes, had to settle with wearing the clothes from earlier. They were still dirty, mud ingrained into the legs and sleeves from where she had fallen so gracelessly into the mud hours before. The office had been unused for some time, but still maintained an official air, that feeling was intensified further by Alexei himself. He sat tall and ramrod straight in a chair that had been brought in for his use. His hands were clasped in front of him, and despite being there for good reasons, appeared to look quite stern.

Two hours had passed since "Natasha" discovered she had been part of a test. In the time allotted she had been transported to a different facility, it was deep in the forest and has she not been driven there, would never have found it herself without précised instructions.

She brushed stray strands of hair behind her ear and scanned the room. She could sense Alexei watching her and, if she were completely honest with herself, she found him to be more than a little creepy. The silence had stretched for a few minutes and she forced herself to remain quiet, and not say something to alleviate the uncomfortable atmosphere. To her immense relief, the Colonel broke the silence himself.

"Natasha, your superiors and myself have been speaking…" he began before pausing to ensure he had her full cooperation. When he was sure she was listening, Dolov carried on. "We have noticed you are a very capable young woman… this is good," he said simply. "You maintain excellent scores and are able to concentrate on schoolwork, as well as your training with apparent ease."

"Natasha" felt a swell of pride that they had noticed. The training came relatively easy to her and she relished being given something new to work with, be it a new language or form of martial arts. And though she would never say so as it was definitely frowned upon, it was fun. "Thank you," she answered modestly, and smiled a little bit.

"But…" There was always a 'but', and at the sound of that little word, the swell of pride promptly deflated. "We think you need something else to challenge you." Her interest was sufficiently piqued once more, and she leaned forward eagerly. Alexei noticed and chuckled. "I knew this would arouse your interest." The humour was pushed aside and replaced with a frown. "This will not be a test," he lied. "It will not be a training exercise…"

With the interest came a glimmer of uncertainty. Her stomach flip-flopped at his serious tone – this was to be the real thing. Her emotions threatened to fly all over the place and she forced them into check. She clasped her hands on her lap, and twiddled her thumbs out of his view. Her mouth felt terribly dry but she dared not reach for the glass in front of her in case he spotted her sudden nervousness.

Dolov slid a thing folder across the desk, and he indicated for her to open it. With no choice but to move her hands, "Natasha" quickly took it and opened it to the first page. It contained an A4 photograph of red and yellow brick building with two large towers on either side of a slanted roofed section with six arches, three on each level. In front was a grassy verge, people sat on the grass or walked by, bags were slung across their shoulders. There was no writing to indicate what the building was, but judging from the young looking people in the photograph, she was able to hazard a guess. "This is a school?"

The Colonel offered a curt nod. "This is the school known as UCLA --." With her gaze carefully focused on the photograph, he took a few seconds to ensure the name did not ring any bells in the American formerly known as Sydney Anne Bristow.

"My mission…" "Natasha" hesitantly began, "Is to go to school?" She wasn't able to completely able to hide the disappointment. It just sounded so anticlimactic. Yes it would be wonderful to see another country, but that just did not sound particularly challenging. "Unless this isn't all?" She concluded.

"It is not all," he assured her. "You will be taking courses in the English language and literature, Russian --."

She couldn't help but interrupt. "Why would --?"

Expecting the query, Alexei cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Your cover is as an American…" He couldn't tell her that, as a student learning Russian – and a few other languages that would be added to her list – she would be noticed and, her superiors hoped, watched. "Natasha nodded her acceptance, and let out a breath. This wasn't anticlimactic after all; in fact it was starting to become rather overwhelming. "You will also be required to take classes in the social sciences – specifics are on page three of the brief." Admittedly, he hoped being in America, taking on the persona of a girl in that country – albeit a made-up one – would not jog her memory. She was needed and had been trained to recall details, should she start to remember who she truly was during her most important test, "Natasha" would be neutralized as a threat to Russia.

"Natasha" had no idea of what was in store for her. She closed the folder with the intentions of looking through it properly as soon as she was out of the office. She flashed a smile and nodded her head assuredly, "I won't let you down."

* * *

Anna was waiting in the corridor for "Natasha" and the second she heard the office door swing open, she pushed herself off the wall she had been leaning against and stood straight. When the Colonel didn't exit with her half sister, she relaxed. Her brown eyes immediately flickered to the folder the younger girl held and she waited expectantly to hear what had happened in the other room. She knew some of the details – it had been necessary is what her superiors had told her. Anna would continue to be their eyes and ears, relaying any odd or Sydney-like behaviour to them. She would do that, albeit with a little regret.

"Natasha" had been living with her for so many years now. Had she only just come to live with Anna, it would have been easier to maintain sufficient distance so as not to grow close, become sisterly so to speak. But the young American had been a little child – they had both been children – when they were introduced. And in the time that had passed the two girls had gone to school together, gone through challenging and often difficult training sessions, they had shared the same space at home. It made it difficult to not regard "Natasha" as a family member… especially when the girl, formerly known as Sydney believed it to be true.

Anna had helped "Natasha" in the very early years, from the very first day when she had persuaded the young girl to sneak off in the school disguised as a training facility. They had competed against each other in training, to see who could hit their targets at the shooting range when they were eight-years-old, to race each other and see who could run for the longest distance without stopping to catch their breath. They had fought each other when they became more adept ad Krav Maga. "Natasha" and Anna Espinosa were the best, the pride of the academy. The success stories.

But if "Natasha" put one foot wrong in America, as the one dispatched to watch over her, Anna would be the one assigned the task of pulling the trigger.

The two supposed sisters embraced in the corridor and started to walk away from the office. "Natasha" could barely contain her smile, and the second they exited the building she paused. "I'm being sent to America." With the glee came a reluctance to leave. She was unable to recall the last time she had been away from Anna, and now they would be seperated by thousands of miles. She added quickly in an effort to ease any disappointment her sister might feel at the news, "I'm positive you will be given a mission soon. But I wish you were coming with me."

Anna forced a smile. Little did "Natasha" know, she would never be far away. "I am so proud of you, Natasha. I know you will make our country proud."

* * *

Can you believe this chapter has been lying on my computer for **months**? Yes, you read that correctly, wince.Sorry everyone! I could have sworn I'd put this chapter up a while ago. The good news, the next two chapters are already written so they should be up in quick succession.


	14. Coming To America

**

* * *

**

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

**LOS ANGELES**

The kid in the seat behind Natasha had been kicking hers incessantly for the last half an hour of the flight, despite his mother's attempts to tell him to stop it and have a rest before landing. Any other time it would have annoyed her but this time she was able to ignore it. Staring outside the windows at the perfect blue skies, it was easy to become lost and entranced. Yes she had been on a plane before but coming to America was a first. Though Natasha did realise she was in Los Angeles for work and not a holiday, it was still difficult not to feel excited. Her first mission, her first visit to Los Angeles, her first real alias… there were a lot of firsts for her.

Her stomach knotted with a nauseating mix of trepidation and excitement; her superiors believed that she was ready for this – but she still had her own personal insecurities that she had dared not bring up with anyone, not even Anna. She knew her sister would deal with this easily; she would smile mysteriously and then shrug before adding something along the lines of, "I can handle anything."

It wasn't just the fact that she had a real mission that was leaving her with uncertainties about herself either, she had to do normal things like integrate herself into college life: An American college. Fortunately she could pass as a native; the accent had come quite easily for her, which was lucky because her cover story stated that she was a US citizen born and bred. She was going to have to work on her tan though, so far her skin was so pale it looked as if she might be a recluse and hadn't seen the sun in a long time. Natasha looked like a tourist, and that was automatically at odds with her legend.

The plane cruised along the runway and Natasha tuned back into her surroundings. The folder she had been perusing she had tucked away inside a magazine, with the intention of slipping it into her hand luggage when the plane came to a complete stop.

She had read the information the file contained with a very real interest, a thirst to find out what her new persona would be; what history she had been given. Certain things she would add on. Natasha would be asked questions at the college, things that wouldn't have been included and she would have to think on her feet of what answers to give. But that part would be fine, she was used to it. At one time it had been daunting to do that, make up things on the spot; she had gone into each task with a queasy feeling: What if she was too slow to answer a question? What if she was caught in her own lie by saying one thing and then something completely different later on? What if she was unable to remember important facts and recall them at will?

And then she had stopped herself for being foolish. Firstly the Agency saw something in her, they trusted her it be able to do these things, and secondly, by worrying so much she wasn't concentrating and started to make the stupidest of mistakes that she wouldn't usually.

Natasha wasn't able to stop a smile from surfacing and, seeing her reflection in the little window, realised she likely looked a little goofy. Other passengers started to stand and take their luggage from the overhead compartments and she did the same once the aisle had cleared. She joined the long queue of travellers, bag slung over her shoulder and passport at the ready . From this moment on she was Natasha Scott, 19 years old, about to start her first semester at UCLA and with the intention of having fun.

The smile returned.

* * *

There had been a long line of taxis waiting outside the airport so, after collecting the rest of her luggage, Natasha hadn't needed to wait. Before she really had time to think and take stock of where she was, the taxi was speeding away from LAX. Worryingly the driver was doing a crossword at the same time as driving, but amazingly he wasn't swerving all over the road -- though there were a couple of near misses as he turned onto the freeway. He didn't start asking questions so she had no need to dig into her legend straight off the bat. She almost wished he would ask her something, it would be a good test of her abilities, and she wouldn't have to worry about screwing up later on.

It just wasn't to be though and he pulled onto campus without having said a word – that is except for asking where she was going to at the start, and asking for her fare at the end.

There were people milling all over the campus and for a couple of minutes Natasha was able only to stare in fascination. Everyone seemed to have something to do or someplace to go, though it was probable that at least half were freshman like she was and were as nervous, excited and overwhelmed too. The building was a little bigger than it had appeared to be in the pictures, but everything else she had expected. The sun was glaring, it was hotter than Hell or near enough, and nobody was wearing a coat or complaining of the cold. They were tanned and cool looking. And she was going to have to be one of them.

Straight away she began her observations; checked out the way each of them acted, how they talked and gestured as they spoke, how they acted around each other. Things were quite different to what she was used to.

A lanky guy with longer hair than hers sauntered over and waggled his sunglasses on the tip of his nose, as he checked her out with a wink and a smile. He thrust a purple leaflet into her hand. "Freshman… party at 11… you gotta be there," And then he continued on his way to accost whoever else he passed.

A little belatedly, Natasha turned around and shouted back, "For sure!" He either didn't hear her or chose to ignore her, but either way she got no reaction. She rolled her eyes and hit her forehead, "Idiot." And then she did what every other first timer did, gathered up her luggage and walked endlessly; trying to find out where to go but not wanting to look stupid by continually asking for directions. It hadn't been this hard starting the School.

* * *

Natasha found her dorm eventually, an hour after she had arrived. Not all that time had been spent searching though, she had been checking out the coffee shop, the bookshop – neither easy endeavours when carrying luggage. The dorm wasn't huge but then she hadn't expected it would be. But it was larger than the room she had shared with Anna back home, and pleasing to the eye. She walked more fully into the room and noticed the bed closest to the window had already been taken. It had been made and clothes were strewn all across it as though the owner had left in a hurry. There was nothing around that would identify who her roommate was, and she wasn't about to go searching for a purse just to find identification. The girl would return soon enough. Carrying each suitcase to the bed, Natasha set them out neatly and opened them in turn. The clothes were few and mostly brand new. The things she had at home were suited for Russia, and wouldn't help her fit in here.

The door suddenly flew open and the unexpectedness of it caused Natasha to spin around, surprise evident on her face. The newcomer was being half carried through the doorway by a muscular blond young man; the girl was giggling and trying to stifle a hiccup as she tried to stand. "Sweetie, you don't have to carry me!"

The guy grinned widely and didn't let her down. "I'm carryin' you across the threshold; just like I'm s'posed to." From his accent, Natasha quickly discerned he wasn't from this area himself.

His girlfriend, a pretty black girl with dark hair swept up into a ponytail and wearing the most delighted smile Natasha had ever seen, lightly tapped him on the arm. "We're not even married --." She cut herself off when she noticed Natasha stood waiting, with a somewhat hesitant smile. "Oh…hi!" The girl extricated herself from the others' arms and held out a hand. "You're my roomie? It's so good to meet you… you're Natasha, right? I'm Francie… Francie Calfo." She paused for breath before adding, "You now what? There's a cute little coffee shop not far from here; we should go there later and get to know one another."

Natasha was a little taken aback by the bundle of energy and cheerfulness. Francie seemed to be so outgoing, it was a wonderful change. It was also impossible not to smile and respond with a similar attitude. "I think that's a great idea." She grinned and shook the offered hand. This wasn't so hard after all.

"And this is Chad," Francie stepped aside so the man himself could enter.

Chad gave a mock salute. "We're gonna get married," he announced in a deliriously happy tone.

Francie rolled her eyes and made a show of twirling a finger around the side of her head in a 'he's crazy' fashion. "In his dreams… he started saying that to everyone a week after we started dating – he even told my dad!" From the expression on her face, that bit of news had not gone down well in the slightest. "And you would not even want to be around for what happened next."

As if to corroborate that, Chad gave a shudder and made a face. "Yeah, her dad can get real mad real fast." That said he glanced down at Francie's watch to catch a glimpse of the time. "Fran, I gotta get goin'." He leant down to give her a kiss before waving goodbye to Natasha and rushing out of the door like he was late for a business meeting.

The door swung to a close and both Francie and Natasha moved to their own respective beds; one neat and the other not so much. Only a few minutes passed by before Francie broke the silence, another smile had formed as she gazed out of the window. Many people were still bustling around below them. "You know what? We can pack anytime… this is our first day on campus and we're stuck in here getting everything together," she pointed out. "We can't do this day over again, what do you say we completely ignore all of this…" She swept her arm out to indicate the unpacked and half packed cases. "And just go out now and have some fun?"

Natasha paused and turned around to face Francie and follow her line of sight. S he dropped the skirt she was holding back onto the bed, "That's the best idea I've heard all day."

* * *

The coffee shop Francie had spoken of was packed full when they arrived. The people behind the counter were flushed red with rushing around serving everyone and looked hassled in general. This always was the busiest time of year for them and that was good and bad – good because of all the tips and bad because their boss would be asking them to work overtime until things cooled down. The queue was almost outside the door and the two girls got into line before they could change their minds. The air was thick with the smell of coffee, hot chocolate and freshly made buns and pain au chocolat; the collective scents made Natasha's mouth water and for the first time she realised just how hungry she actually was.

They found a recently vacated table twenty minutes later; the queue they left had grown even longer than when they had been waiting. There was silence for around ten minutes whilst the two roommates drank their drinks and scoffed down their chocolate delicacies; but conversation was inevitable.

"Where are you from?" That along with family questions, always were the first.

"LA originally, but I had to move around a lot," Natasha replied easily.

Francie nodded. She couldn't understand what it was like to move around all the time and never stay in one place for an extended period; she had lived in the same house all her life. The fact that that little piece of information showed the Natasha was different from her meant that she wanted to learn more. "Let me guess… you're an army brat?" A brief friend of hers had had a father in the USAF; the girl had only spent six months in the area, living with an eccentric aunt, before she had moved.

Natasha nodded briefly. "Yeah I was," she feigned a slightly uncomfortable demeanour. "My father was a major in the Air Force --."

Francie's face fell as realisation hit and she put down her coffee as a sympathetic expression appeared. "Oh… I'm sorry…"

One thing that did work in Natasha's favour, strangers generally didn't want to continue a line of questioning if it included a death or family problem; it was immediately seen as prying and a no go zone. Natasha shook her head, "its okay… you couldn't know. It's just hard to talk about it…" she trailed off.

Francie gave a little smile and nodded. "Okay, let's make a deal… family is off limits from now on."

That would work perfectly.

* * *


	15. The College Experience

**Chapter Fourteen**

**LOS ANGELES**

By the time Natasha and Francie stepped into the frat house, the first party of the semester was in full swing. There would be many more before vacation time in a few months, but the people that had put this one together had made sure that it would remain memorable; the one that all others tried to better. And as one young girl, also on her first day at the campus, threw up into the bushes by the steps it was pretty much a given that there would be many with a hangover the next day. It was fortunate classes started the day after tomorrow or nobody would be concentrating. The teachers had clearly accounted for such an eventuality.

Natasha had been to parties before, well only two and they had been graduation parties that had also been attended by instructors -- there to make sure no one collapsed or said too much or froze to death on a park bench... Actually it wasn't much of a party after all. People had **celebrated** in a nice and sober way as possible... the object at the frat party she was currently walking into appeared to be the polar opposite. People were becoming inebriated, quickly and with plenty of gusto.

Natasha could out drink all of them. She may have not seen many parties, but Anna and herself and snuck in enough alcohol and taken part in plenty of creative drinking games that would have shocked their instructors. Her American alias Natasha Scott, by contrast, would never do something like that. Miss. Scott would not get drunk and run around a base as a dare, and embarrass her deceased Air Force father. She was new to the party game, the drinking game, the getting plastered and walking home with a crazy walk game. Fortunately she could remember enough of her first experience with alcohol, to remember how to act drunk in order to not seem like an outsider to all the strange people. She was not so naive as to imagine she was the only agent on campus.

The thought sent a chill down her spine and, as inconspicuously as possible, Natasha scanned the room as she entered. The atmosphere was smoky and so full that it would have been impossible for anyone else to catalogue the variety of faces. But as Natasha had been told on a few occasions -- she was special. Upon first glance everyone appeared to be going about their own business: the girls chatting up cute guys and vice versa, people like her roomie talking to their beaus. A familiar face made his way over to her, as she clutched her coat in the corner. Her well-trained mind might have been on the job but outwardly Natasha looked as overwhelmed as any freshman at their first frat party. She ran through her memory bank in order to place the guy, even as he swerved off and shouted out, "Babe! You made it!"

Of course... It was Francie's boyfriend. Natasha relaxed and tucked her hair behind her ear as she continued to scan the room. The music was on so loud she feared her ear drums would burst, and the smell of sweat, perfume and alcohol that permeated the atmosphere was vaguely sickening but at the same time she embraced it. This is what it was like to be a normal girl going to school and having fun. Even if Natasha Espinosa could never let her guard down, even for a minute; her alter ego could. Natasha Scott would be nervous going into this excitable situation, but like it at the same time. And as Francie linked her arm and dragged her deeper into the room, the Russian teenager let the music wash over her as she took a sip of college beer.

Natasha cradled a plastic cup of wine in her hand as she settled back on her unmade bed. The moon shone through the curtain-less window and the distant pounding of music from further down the campus could still be heard, but faintly. As Francie and she had wound their way, a little unsteadily on both their parts, they had discovered three other houses had been having fun. They had only gone to the one though, though hankering for the college experience that first night they were not stupid enough to down so much alcohol that they would fall asleep in the street on their way home. Natasha though was partly acting. She had slurred her speech and spoken a tiny bit slower, as much to get away from slobbering frat boys as to act the part. Not many people would have been able to drink as much beer as she had without feeling a little tipsy. Her head had spun at first but a few deep breaths of fresh air had soon cleared that.

Even as she got into character, her teachings still reverberated in her mind to stop her from going past the point of mildly drunk to oblivious of surroundings. Most people would say she was too uptight, and that she should let go of her inhibitions but the truth was she didn't know **how** to. She wasn't programmed to do that, not completely. So Natasha just went through the motions instead.

At some point, she had wondered when the acting ended and her actual feelings and likes had begun. Especially when she had been training, Natasha had wondered those things. Though she hadn't admitted it to Anna - because nothing seemed to faze her - Natasha had wondered if one day she would just become a robot; unable to make decisions on her own or be true to herself. And then a teacher had come over and told her to stop thinking trivial thoughts and put together her puzzle, and her mind had been cleared.

At this university, in this place so alien, Natasha resolved to find out just who she was. Did she really like running or was it only because she had been told to run laps to keep in shape that she **thought** she did? Did she really like Vodka or did she just drink so much without really tasting it, to compete with Anna? At UCLA there was no one to compete with, no one telling her what to do or how to do it... Here she was free.

Natasha smiled into her wine cup and put it aside. It was some cheap stuff, far too bitter. She didn't like it, so that was one think to add to the mental list of dislikes. Francie pushed open the door to their dorm, toothbrush and wash cloth in hand. Catching the little smile, she studied Natasha curiously. "You look like someone with a secret," she laughed aloud, not at all aware of how close to the mark she actually was.

She watched as Francie fell onto the bed with a contented sigh. She had complained about the stupidity of wearing stilettos while tipsy on their way back to the dorm, and now massaged her feet. Natasha shrugged, "Just thinking that I'll never forget tonight," she explained simply.

Francie lay back on the bed, her eyes already closing as she murmured a soft agreement, "it was fun."

Natasha waited half an hour until her roomie fell asleep, and then changed into jogging pants, tank top and trainers. She hadn't worn them before; like most of the clothes in her case they were new. She wasn't just going for a jog - because how many people did that at 3am? No, Natasha Scott had played and now it was time for Natasha Espinosa to go to work.

**THE BLUE LADY**

Jimmy Carlton, now forty-one, had not changed much since Irina had gone to him thirteen years ago, for information on where her former handler had fled to. His dark hair held not one speck of grey and his eyes were as bright as ever. He was still a sucker for a pretty girl, even if Sophie Templin -- AKA Irina Derevko -- never came around anymore. He had moped, and wished and wanted... But then he had heard on the underground that she had died in a car crash and he had grieved. She had always been a mystery to him. She had said she wanted him and then left with information before he could get as much as a kiss. She had been a woman that knew what she wanted and how to get it, and how she had wrangled every wanted tidbit out of Jimmy. He had known even then that he was only a source of Intel for her, but he had dreamt of something more. Even if the angel on one shoulder told him she was no good and the devil on the other told him to take what he wanted, old Jimmy Carlton had remained a gentleman -- albeit one who drooled terribly whenever dear Sophie entered the room.

He had only discovered just how dangerous Sophie was when information filtered through that the dead man found hanging over the pier thirteen years ago had been the one she had searched for. He knew who the killer was but had never told. He was a loyal fool, and he supposed that was better than being the regular kind.

He still lounged around the same old bar, though it had changed hands three times in the last thirteen years. His reputation had grown with the old building's popularity. He still dabbled in the old stuff, supplying newcomers and old customers with weapons and -- always -- information. The big work was hard to come by sometimes and it was always nice to know he had some regulars. But as Jimmy craned his neck at 4:47am to see who was walking into the busy bar, he became very interested as to who the lovely lady was that strode toward him. She was young, younger than he had been when he first started out, but sure of herself in a strangely innocent but deadly kind of way. He had seen that purposeful expression somewhere before and he blatantly shivered as he came to the illogical conclusion that a ghost from the past had just walked in to see how he was doing.

"If you're not related to that beautiful Sophie, by God I'll eat my hat," he murmured as Natasha came to a stop in front of him.

Amusement was pushed from her face to be replaced by a guarded expression. "You're not wearing a hat," she pointed out. "But feel free to eat it later, because I have no idea who Sophie is."

He blinked once and then twice and mentally shook himself. And then he allowed his gaze to travel the length of her body. It was only when his eyes started to get higher that he realised her stance had changed; now her arms were folded and a scowl was directed at him. That was eerily familiar too. "I'll ah... I'll find you a picture." Mentally old Jimmy berated himself for acting like a pervy old man. He tipped an imaginary hat before smiling in what he hoped was a disarming fashion. "And what can I do for you, young lady?" His eyes narrowed. "Are you old enough to be in here? I don't own the place but you could get into some trouble sneaking in here... unless... you know, I could hook you up with a guy that could get you an ID, nobody'll know but the two of us. And the guy, of course." Always the player.

Natasha frowned. Never before had she come across someone like Jimmy. Perhaps she would be thinking more clearly had she not consumed so much alcohol. "Dolov sent me. And he told me to tell you to 'watch the vodka'." The message passed along, she waited to see if it would ring any bells because she had no idea what it meant.

Jimmy slid off his stool and stood taller. "Right," he responded in the most serious manner she had seen his use so far. "Come with me."

**A/N: **And Jimmy, if you may remember from oh... a century or so ago, he was in one of the early chapters for a brief period, as a go-to guy for Irina.


	16. Complete Recap

**Complete Recap  
**

**_Warning -- huge spoilers ahead for those that haven't read previous chapters._**

A six-year-old Sydney Bristow was kidnapped by the KGB, not long before Irina was going to be extracted. Not knowing at first that it was the KGB that has taken her, Laura and Jack start by trying to find her. The CIA allows Jack to use their resources so he can accomplish that goal. Irina still doesn't tell Jack her true identity and uses other means to find out where Sydney may be; eventually discovering that it was the KGB that took Sydney. Her handler, Gavrie Kandabarov, who would have held information, was murdered by a mysterious sniper during interrogation. The interrogation is conducted by Irina; who binds his arms to the edge of the pier and uses a knife to persuade him to give her information.

Young Sydney is told on a plane bound for Russia that her parents have been killed in a terrible car accident, and provides her with the newspaper detailing what happened. "Emma" the woman that kidnapped Sydney had showed the kid a picture of herself and Laura together in order to gain Sydney's trust in the first place. Once in Russia, Sydney is introduced to "Emma's" daughter -- a young Anna Espinosa. She is taken to live with her grandmother and aunt, Yeva and Yelena Derevko, who have both been told that Irina is dead. Sydney is soon sent to school, which among regular lessons includes the Russian version of Project Christmas.

Not long after Sydney has been taken Irina confides in Emily that she is pregnant again. She finally tells Jack and he isn't the happiest man in the world upon hearing the news, at first anyway. They both, separately, continue to search for Sydney. Jack apparently becomes disillusioned with the CIA, and is approached by Sloane to join SD-6.

Around 12 months later, now with a 3 month old Nadia, Jack learns of Sydney's supposed location. She has been moved to Italy by the KGB because of "someone" coming too close to finding Sydney; a ploy by Irina to force them to come out of Russia, so as to make sure she can get close enough to attempt a rescue. At the same time Jack hears of similar Intel. The two, Jack unaware that his wife is anywhere near Italy, surveils the house where Sydney is being held, watched over by a woman (Yelena). Irina gains entry into the house by posing as a woman that has been called by someone from inside to provide entertainment for the bored men.

She systematically works at knocking out the closest guards and gets to the 1st floor of the house seconds before an SD-6 team, including Jack, break in. Once in the room where Sydney was supposed to be Irina finds it empty, moments before Jack enters. Fortunately for her thanks to a dark room (and a fake accent) he doesn't know who she is. He questions her and they fight.

Outside the compound Yelena is about to be killed by one of the guards that tells her she has been too nosy by digging around to find out more about what the KGB have been doing to Sydney. Yelena is saved by a seven-year-old Sydney, who shoots the guard (those lessons came in handy).

Irina escapes thanks to one of her own men temporarily disabling Jack.

Back in LA, still without Sydney, Jack comes home. Laura gets a phone call; the man on the other end of the line makes it clear that if there is anymore interference, or she breaks her cover by telling Jack what she knows, something will "happen" to baby Nadia. Knowing that both Nadia and Jack will be in more danger if there are more secrets, the next day Irina meets with Jack in secret and tells him who she really is.

A few hours later, back at SD-6, Sloane tells an anxious Jack that Laura has been killed in a car accident.

**Six Years Later**

By now Nadia is six; the same age Sydney was when she was taken by the KGB. Though she does not know about her mother having been a Russian agent and her father being a double agent for the CIA, she knows Jack is one of "the good guys", and her mother is a secret, that she can't tell anybody about. Jack takes her from school, the two of them apparently going on a vacation.

In Russia, Sydney is now well into her training at The School. At this point she still lives with her Grandmother Yeva and Aunt Yelena; and the former is still in the dark about what goes on at The School. The twelve-year-old Sydney still thinks her parents were killed in a car crash in LA when she was six-years-old. She still likes running; it clears her head, and her personality is not too different to the Sydney everybody knows. She doesn't, however, remember things about her American life; she has to be contented with reading old journals.

At times away from The School, Sydney is accompanied by Yelena, who has by now begun to suspect that not everything is as it seems. She has begun to do research of her own. She has started to doubt Irina, her sister, is even dead as the KGB proclaimed. Her rooting into Irina Derevko's past had aroused Jack's suspicions; who meticulously checks anything that could lead the enemy to his family.

Unbeknownst to Jack, Nadia has already been in danger. Katya has always kept tabs on them since she was in nursery school; using her to gain information for her Agency, and then making her keep their meetings a "fun secret". Nadia tells Katya that her father is going to France; and Katya follows while Nadya stays with a trusted babysitter.

Jack goes to France to meet the woman that has been trying to fins information on Irina – Yelena. Yelena is going by the name Lucille; Jack under the name Stefan, an Italian. Seeped in shadow, neither knows the other's true identity.

But eventually Jack does see "Lucille", and recognises her not as Irina's sister, but as the "babysitter" that had been at the villa in Italy with Sydney six years before. He starts to threaten Yelena, but before he can gain any information she is shot. By Katya.

Yelena wakes up in hospital; Katya has decided to give her sister one chance only – to cease her investigations.

In Russia Sydney is gradually forgetting everything, a little bit at a time. She is slowly being reprogrammed: to become Natasha Espinosa.

In the hospital, in questioning Yelena, Katya assumes her sister knew she was speaking to Jack Bristow. So now Yelena knows her brother-in-law is alive, and has not died in a car crash at all.

In an undisclosed location, monitoring things from her end is Irina. Alive and well. Jack has had a contact searching for gunshot victims in the area surrounding Ville Franche, where the meet had gone down; and through this he finds "Lucille". In the hospital, Yelena escapes; but is quickly captured by an unknown foe.

Only a few months older than the young Sydney, Anna is told to watch the other child – now "Natasha Espinosa" and is told that Natasha will be her new sister.

Jack sets up a video link of "Lucille's" interrogation – the unknown foe that took Yelena from outside the hospital was an associate of Jack's. This time Yelena is the one with more information, and she introduces herself to the astounded Jack, as Irina's sister.

After twelve long years Irina and Yelena finally get the change to speak again, via the video link Jack had put in place so Irina could watch the interrogation and offer input. Her sister drops her bombshell – their mother has been looking after Sydney all these years. Jack and Yelena travel to the cottage; the hidden location where Irina is situated. Yelena calls Russia, to contact their mother and instruct her to get Sydney to safety. But another bombshell is given; Dmitri, a neighbour, tells Yelena that her mother is dead and Sydney has disappeared once again.

**Six Years Later**

Now nineteen-years-old, "Natasha Espinosa's" training is almost completed. During a routine jog through training ground she is set upon by attackers. After fending off one she is captured and held in a dismal room whilst her captors try to find out who she is, who she works for; and include threats. She tries to devise a plan of escape but she is cuffed to a chair and guarded so escape seems impossible. However she does not tell them a thing.

Luckily for Natasha, she is told the "capture" was a test…And now she is ready for her first mission. To America. Meanwhile, in England, Irina comes across a boy on the streets of London; a young Julian Sark.

What Natasha does not know is that Katya and Anna are watching her carefully; if she puts a foot in the wrong direction she will be killed. Things are less happy for twelve-year-old Nadia, as she begins to believe that her father does not care for her anymore, as Jack becomes more distant. Her mother bringing back Sark only solidifies that belief.

**Current**

Now in LA, Natasha has mixed feelings about her new mission; but they are soon put at ease when a young Francie Calfo, her roommate, takes her under her wing. But all too soon work returns, and she must meet with her first contact: Irina's old "go to" guy, Jimmy Carlton. And he sees a striking resemblance to "Sophie Templin", Irina's alias twelve years ago.

**_And to remind me, as well as recap names for everyone else... _**

Yeva Derevko - Irina's mother _(deceased) _  
Jimmy Carlton - Natasha's contact  
Gavrie Kandabarov - Irina's handler _(deceased)_  
Colonel Alexi Dolov - Former KGB Agent  
Emma Espinosa - Anna's mother  
Chad - Francie's current boyfriend

**Aliases**  
Sydney Bristow Natasha Espinosa Natasha Scott  
Irina Derevko Laura Bristow Sophie Templin  
Jack Bristow Stefan  
Yelena Derevko Lucille


	17. Discovery

**Chapter Fifteen**

**LOS ANGELES**

The back room was dark when Natasha first stepped into the small but box filled area beyond the main section of _The Blue Lady_. Jimmy tossed over the quick comment of, "Mr. Boss lets me use this room when I crash down here every now and again. He stays away 'cause he thinks it's just my personal space." Unlocking the door, he grinned impishly. His quick changing manner of fun to serious of minutes ago had dissipated on the five minute walk through the back corridors. "Only I have the key, and no one finds out what business really goes on back here."

As charming and fun-loving as Mr. Carlton appeared to be, the young spy was taking no chances. She stayed on her guard, ready for any sign that his manner would change again. Luckily for Jimmy, he remained polite and stepped into the room and flicked on the lights so that she could see nobody had been hiding in the dark. "Fortunate for you, because I'm sure you know what would happen if my employers found out someone else was aware of our business."

It was a standard warning, but Natasha was already aware that Jimmy would know better than to blab. He had been doing this for many years, unseen and unaccosted, because he stayed on everybody's good side; no matter what he did. The glare of the overhead lights was harsh, and she blinked a few times as she regained her focus after the darkness.

The room contained a small dresser, which held a small lamp; a threadbare rug which slid underfoot as Jimmy stepped across the room; and his made bed. This was the only sign that the room was actually lived in and not just storage space. She knew the near middle-aged man ahead of her had an apartment, but remained at _The Blue Lady_ because it was homey to him. Jimmy had spent so long lazing around there on his downtime that going to his actual apartment felt strange. There were boxes pressed against the walls, sealed and towering almost ceiling high and it was to these that the forty one-year-old went.

Pausing for a moment as he flipped a pen knife out of his pocket to break the cellotape, he turned around. "A little friendly advice? You need to lighten up a little, especially with the civilians. And no threatening the regular people either. I know who you work for, so you have to be tough; I get it." It was said with a slight expression of amusement. She had gone in with a rather cool expression; she had picked up a few of Anna's habits.

Curtly, Natasha nodded. "Thanks for the advice." It was hard not to feel the sting of the admonishment, however nicely it was spoken and she flashed back to her old teacher's comments. "I got it."

Nodding, Jimmy turned back to the box before pausing again and producing his wallet. He tossed it over to Natasha, and added a joking, "I know how much is in there, so no stealing. Inside sleeve. That's the dearest Sophie."

Natasha turned the wallet over in her hands, the distinct smell of leather filling her nostrils. It was a well made item; she could not help but notice. Opening the wallet and slipping a finger inside, she drew out a small photograph. It was taken from a distance; a woman on a pier. She was not aware she was being photographed, but there was an expression of wariness on the woman's face that Natasha recognised. The woman knew someone just might have been watching her, but did not know where exactly that watcher was located.

The woman's brown hair hung to her shoulders, a few tendrils wafted in front of her attentive face by a light breeze. She was by a pier, and in the background the sun was setting. Mostly out of view was the bonnet of a car; its number plate blurry. Natasha scrutinised the image, and for a moment her breath caught in her throat.

"Told you there was a resemblance," Jimmy commented easily.

Slowly, Natasha nodded. The woman in the photograph was young; she estimated about twenty-one, so not too much older than Natasha herself. They could easily have been related.

**BRISTOW RESIDENCE  
**

It was 5am on the second day of school holidays; Nadia was at Irina's hideout and Jack was alone in the house he had spent so many tension-filled years in. There was good tension and bad tension and moments in between, but Jack Bristow was at a complete loss as to what this current kind was. He held the phone loosely in one hand, and the other ran through his already tousled hair; still brown but with approaching flecks of grey. His line of work did seem to send people prematurely grey.

But that was not what was on his mind as he sat on the edge of the double bed in the dark. The curtains were partially open and the rising sun cast an amber glow across his profile, illuminating his stunned expression. His emotions felt stretched, and he did not know whether to laugh or cry or scream his frustrations to the world.

He had received the call at 04h56, and it had been short and clipped. But it had sent him into turmoil after all these years.

"_We've found her."  
_

Jack's mind had gone blank, even as his heart lurched into his throat and he struggled with rivalling feelings of hope and scepticism.

"_Come in, we need to talk."  
_

Devlin's tone had been curt and brief, and Jack got the feeling that something was being held back. He would find out what that something was as soon as he got himself into gear; and he did a few minutes later. His heart set up a steady pounding that made his chest ache, and he tried to push it aside. This was not a trick; it could not possibly be a trick. If it was, it would be the cruellest one of all.

It did not take Jack long to arrive at work; at 6am on a Monday the roads were still relatively clear. The drivers on the road were slow moving as they woke themselves on the way to work, one hand on the wheel and the other clutching hot cups of latte or espresso. Jack carried no coffee or even food; he had dressed as quickly as possible before exiting his house. He went through the usual rigmarole of ensuring Security Section was not tailing him. Though he was more than trusted to go places unaccosted now, there were times the dark side of working with SD-6 would rear its head, prompting him to be even more careful.

On this day there was no one, but still he did not allow himself to relax. Mentally he prepared himself for what would or might be said, and as his gut lurched the possibility that they had found her and she was dead, crossed his mind. Forcefully he pushed that unsatisfying thought aside. Devlin would have said that outright, were it true.

Absently he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited, impatiently, for the traffic lights to switch to green. It was the only outward sign that he was feeling anything other than calmness; and when Jack realised what he was doing his hand gripped the wheel instead. He had entertained the idea of contacting Irina but dismissed it quickly. Stopping to call and explain what little he knew would waste valuable time that he could be debriefed. Better to make contact when he knew exactly what was happening.

However, he knew she would not like hearing that he had kept her in the dark. Chuckling mirthlessly under his breath, Jack thought it was rather poetic considering what she had kept from him for so long.

Pulling into the underground garage of the all too familiar building, he quickly locked his car and headed inside. After flashing his ID and entering the elevator, it took only three minutes to reach the correct floor, cross the offices, and reach Devlin's office. Jack knew, as a rookie agent he had counted. He pushed the door ajar without waiting for an answer to his knocking, and figured the other man would understand. Closing the door again to allow them privacy, Kendall looked up.

"Jack," he greeted in a simple acknowledgement of the agent's appearance. "Sit down." He indicated the well used chair in front of his desk, and leant back in his own high-backed leather chair. A black biro was twisted around in his fingers as he tried to articulate what he wanted to say, in his head.

Like the young, unsure agent he had once been, Jack's stomach flipped but he sat down and resisted the urge to make Devlin hurry and speak.

Finally Devlin did continue, and he clasped his hands; setting them down on a brown folder in front of them. It directed Jack's attention to it, and he knew the information he wanted – needed – was in there. Seeing that, Devlin slid the folder across the table and after a beat, Jack opened it.

There was a picture of the six-year-old Sydney Bristow staring back at him. It was the one people around LA had become familiar with thirteen years before, when the search had first began. Below it was another, a colour photograph, of a teenager. She was not aware anybody was watching her as she walked around a university campus. Jack's fingers glossed over the image of the girl, who was vaguely familiar yet not at the same time. And at the back of his mind, Jack just _knew_. "Sydney…" He whispered, his gaze never leaving the second photograph.

Devlin nodded, though the expression was tinged with sadness. "She's in LA, Jack." There was something in the few short words that made the comment sound like a bad thing, and Jack quickly studied Devlin to see if he could figure out why. Fortunately the older man was not one for dramatic pauses, and he pressed on with the information he had. Though it was in the folder too, this was something that should be heard.

"There are some things that you should know…" He began and let out a breath. He knew with a certainty that Jack would not, under any circumstances, like what he was about to say. "We were contacted three days ago by a Russian intelligence agent. He claimed to have information that would interest us. We were sceptical at first, of course, but then he showed us pictures, files. The copies are in the folder.

"As we knew, the Russians have had her all these years. What we didn't know was why – now we do. Project Christmas, Jack."

The moment Devlin uttered those words a light of realisation appeared in Jack's eyes. Realisation and dread. All they had done to keep that project from their enemy and now…his daughter had been used for it. "We now know where she lived, was schooled, was trained. I don't think I need to tell you have valuable this information is."

"It is," Jack agreed calmly. "But that source of information is my daughter…Where is she, Devlin?" He had waited long enough, and now he wanted to see her. But the look on his superior's face made his heart sink. "Not here, I think."

Devlin leaned forward on the table and extended an arm to tap the picture of the campus. "UCLA. According to our informant she was sent here on a mission, and a test. They need to know whether she truly remembers her life here…She was conditioned to believe she is the daughter of one of their former agents: Emma Espinosa." He leaned back in his chair again. "She sees us as the enemy, and would never agree to help us – let alone believe the truth. If she does remember anything she will be killed as a liability. If she does not remember, then her mission continues."

Jack smiled, but it was a cool expression. His daughter was the enemy – there was a ring of history to that; like a twisted version of Irina's life. He almost asked if Sydney had been sent to seduce a CIA agent but refrained from doing so. Nobody knew Laura Bristow was alive and a former KGB agent.

"We entertained the idea of bringing her in, but apart from the lack of co-operation we'd receive, she is also being tracked. By Anna Espinosa – her "sister" no less."

"What do you suggest?" Jack quizzed. He had a good idea of what _he _wanted to do, but it would probably be disallowed by Devlin and anybody else with authority. It was hard to sit back and do nothing when Sydney was only a short drive away. She was so close! But in light of what he now knew, she was also unreachable.

Devlin let out a long, heavy sigh. "I know this will be hard for you. But we watch, wait and see what happens. Short of dragging her in here, I can't see what else --."

"I do," Jack interrupted. A coldness settled over him, and he feverently wished nobody would pay a bad price for what he was about to suggest.


End file.
